The Spirit Who Walks

[*UQT]

Her allies fell around her under the unforgiving assault of devils and hell hounds. Her favor with the spirits kept her up and moving. She raised her dead comrades, healed them and gave what wards and enchantments she had left. There were too many allies, she was spread too thin to protect them all. She made a tough decision to use her strongest remaining spells to shield those in the core group and not those recklessly diving into masses of devils screaming "follow me" as they were torn asunder. 

A name like "Marius" had been heard twice. They couldn't be sure, so she had exposed herself to this large group to let them know what they might face. Here she was, fighting as Lannia Tannen, at last. Arrows flew off her bow, and then the sick crack of the skull of a hell hound was heard. It approached with confidence that it was inside the archer's circle and she was doomed. When it staggered back at the thundering blow of her mace on its head, she pulled an arrow and stabbed it in the eye. It fell in a sick lump at her feet. 

"I am the spirit who walks," She thought as the seemingly hopeless numbers descended upon them, "I am the spirit who walks!"

She put down her bow, throwing out wave after wave of healing energy to the allies closest to her and opening herself to attack as she focused entirely on what spells she had left. Ice storms, lightning, and finally just blasts of acid poured out from her. Another healing wave and her allies seemed to find their wind. 

The day was won. Thankfully... Because she had used everything in her arsenal and was down to trying to blind the enemy with a light spell.

Her chest heaved, but she drug herself along to one corpse after another. She rose the dead, and gave them bandages and potions. She had no healing magic left to offer. She looked around the battlefield. There were people she didn't know, and people she knew she didn't trust in the party. At this point... Her secret was out. 

So she left the brown wig on the battlefield. Collected herself and staggered to the caravan. She was elated, though she didn't say it, when the caravan master agreed to take them back to the gate. She didn't know if her weary legs would carry her, and she certainly did not want to camp there. When she laid down in the wagon, sleep was quick. 

They arrived at the gate, and after the ordeal her stomach woke her angrily. She announced that there would be pancakes at her house. After all, she was Lannia Tannen. 

"And I make the best blueberry pancakes, I like blackberries, and I love Derik Ranloss."

She smiled in spite of her weariness. She couldn't wait to tell Derik.

[*UQT]

She stood upon the frozen sea. All around her the storm clouds billowed. The spirits of air and fire danced in the sky, angry and impatient. She looked across a vast sheet of ice to a shoreline. It was this dream again...

She suddenly found herself upon the shore walking beside her grandfather who was carrying a turtle. To her rear the spirit she'd so often referred to as Cider followed. They walked through a grove that opened around a great, glowing tree. There were names carved all over the tree. She knew they were names, even if you can't read in dreams. 

Her grandfather frowned deeply and touched the tree. He looked sad. Spirits gathered around her, looking at her expectantly. She held her hands out apologetically.

"I'm sorry," She said, "I don't know what you want. I am coming to Rauthym, the ship leaves tomorrow. I am coming as fast as I can."

The spirits seemed satisfied. Her grandfather nodded, and then they stood in field with rolling hills beside a forest at the base of the mountains. He knelt and pushed the grass aside to show the charred ground beneath it. He looked up at her with tears in his eyes. 

"It wasn't your fault," She said in a strangled voice, "None of it was your fault."

The turtle in his hands glowed and a voice called in the distance, "Little Lani? Little Lani!"

She turned to see who was calling to her and woke up.

She sat forward knocking Derik's arm off of her. She hissed, hoping she hadn't woken him, but inevitably...

"Shhhh," His voice came, "It's okay. You are alright, I'm here."

He reflexively comforted her from back before her memories were restored. She didn't typically need it now, but she knew that if she curled into him and cooed he'd be quickly back to sleep. She cuddled close to him, laid still, and soon his breath was even and deep. 

She smiled lightly. He was hers and she was his, and they would face whatever waited in Rauthym together.

[*UQT]

They chartered a boat to the Moonshae ilses. It was as close as a boat from the gate would take them. From there, after begging and offering mountains of gold they found an old fisherman who boldly declared that he was not afraid of any raiders. They sailed to Rauthym in a fishing vessel swinging in hammocks within the cargo hold.

She practiced putting beads and feathers in her hair. She looked like her mother, and her mother was a ranger. Her mother traveled great distances with her stride to lend aid to the sick. If someone recognized her mother in her, it would ease their efforts.

However, with the talk of how vicious the people of the island were, she became steadily less at ease with going there. Kidnapped at six, she remembered only what it was like in her village. People were strong and stubborn, but also warm and playful there. The plants were lush and plentiful. Those that had seen Rauthym did not describe a lush garden of strong willed but warm people. They described a rock, barren and cold, and a people that were harder and colder still. 

Her stomach tangled as they disembarked. This was her homeland, but 17 years gone she was as much a foreigner as any of those who traveled with her. She was elated they were finally here, she could have danced at the idea of find some family still living. She was excited, she was elated, she was… Going to be sick. A lump gathered in her throat and she swallowed it down. 


She steadied herself and approached the first man she saw on the dock. He was a mountain of a man. He took one look at Lannia, standing only 5’8” and the horde of beardless men with her, and openly sneered. He wasn’t much help except in directing Derik to the shrine of Tempus within the city. 

They approached a pyre with a huge bonfire at the bottom. To her eyes it looked like Derik’s sword, warwake. She happily let Derik take the lead here as people sneered at the group of outsiders. Some great northman shaman she was turning out to be. 

She was dizzy and overwhelmed. Her friends spoke a boy behind her, Derik spoke to an elderly man about Tempus in front of her. She was just sort of… There in the middle. 

She was called forward to Derik. The man eyed her and asked her name. When he had it, he made her repeat it and the first blow was delivered.

Everyone knew the name Tannen on these isles. They were cannibals, berserkers that went mad eating human brains and turned on each other, destroying each other in a single night. That was how her grandfather’s attack was remembered. That was the legacy Marius had left upon her name. She closed her eyes as the man said, “Everyone was dead.”

She found a single thread of hope when Derik tried to confirm. Seven siblings, had not one survived? The man who so definitively said there were no survivors said he didn’t know. 

She went back to the group who seemed to be sliding coin to a boy and speaking in a strange tongue. She tried to make sure she counted the coins Luke Darius handed over as he and Ronja Leonheart spoke to the boy. A strange tongue… She didn’t even know how to speak the language of her homeland. Blow two. 

Cillian predictably wandered about, she grimaced at the behavior but said nothing. If he endangered them she was going to mount his pointed ears over a fire and serve them to him well done. Aidan also wandered off. That she did not expect, and she worried over him.

Luke repeated the awful rumor that her family was cursed, eating human brains and going mad. However, the boy knew of her great uncle and a living brother. He proclaimed that her Uncle guards the world tree, and her brother works for drow. Her mind twisted, confused. All of her brothers had been such kind boys, how could he be working for the drow? Blow three. 

She remembered that her great uncle was a shaman. If he was guarding the world tree, he must be powerful. He might, as she’d hoped, be able to teach her. They had the village marked on a map and a lead to the world tree. They chose to go to the village and see who might be there. 

As they approached the vegetation grew denser, bigger than anywhere else on the island that they had seen. This began to feel like home. This was her Chauntean village, fertile and strong. Still, as much as she prepared herself, the charred empty husks of building haunted her steps. She reached out to the spirits and all but one fled. 

She sensed it and walked to him. This was a spirit, this is what she does. She set up a dramatic and powerful entrance in her mind. She would flip into spirit form and declare, “I am Lannia Tannen! I am the Spirit Who Walks!”

She boldly approached and did just that, but as she looked upon the ghost, Derik asked the important question. Who was he? She squinted past the ectoplasmic wisps that surrounded the figure and recognized her grandfather.

She was suddenly six again, staring at him with her tiny, impotent hands, and watching him crumble to dust. She was not Lannia Tannen, Favored of the Spirit, Spellbow and Spirit Who Walks. She was little Lani, and she nearly broke on the spot. 

Somehow, she kept it together. She asked coherent questions and told him how much she missed him. Derik tried to interject one question, but her wise and seeing grandfather answered before he could.

“No you do not have my blessing to marry her. Not until you challenge and beat a man of worth, it is our way,” He said to Derik.

When he inquired who such a man would be. Her grandfather only said that he would know him when he meets him.

As the sunlight threatened, she begged more questions. She asked if there were survivors, where they were and what their names were. He told her she had a living brother and sister. It was more than she dared to hope for. It would have been a great victory if not what he told her next. 

She was too small in that moment, to broken to notice the thickening fog. She heard the words, she got the meaning, but she asked again, “Does Marius have my brother?”

“Siblings are often taken in groups.”

It was a thunderclap that shook her very essence. A blow that drove a bunted spoon toward her heart. It was no surgical cut, but a crushing, defeating darkness. 

She was stunned and rage filled her. Her grandfather told her she was not ready to face her uncle or stand before the world tree. He would not give her the names of her siblings, demanding that she walk and learn her gifts. She would have to grow so that she could divine their names herself. He spoke to her like she was a child and a failure, and she felt like one.

He told her that her sister was safe, but that her brother needed her. The words carved themselves into her soul. Unconsciously she called the spirits of fire to her. Ablaze she made and oath. 

“I will,” She answered, “I will save my brother, I will dream and learn and find a teacher. I will destroy Marius and become the Spirit who walks in truth… I will be who you saw in me when I was six. I promise, grandfather.”

Then a man stepped out of the fog. He told her grandfather that his brother sent his regards. It all happened so fast. A blinding, divine light swallowed her grandfather’s spirit and a horde of northmen descended upon them. The man smiled and said, “I imagine he will pay extra for you, and he lunged at Lannia.”

But Lannia’s shield and her blade were true. Rage flooded her, and for a second the idea that her line was berserk made some sense. She called to the spirits of fire and air and brought down an epic storm upon them, which finished them off. Seeing that the battle had left her friends badly wounded she channeled her divine strength into healing energy, rejuvenating them. Aidan had fallen, and Ronja revived him with a scroll before Lannia could simply recall his spirit. Lannia healed his broken body as he regained consciousness. 

After the battle for several tense moments, anger flowed through her. Derik asked frantically, “Where is your grandfather, Lannia?”

He was gone… His connection to this world was burned away in divine light. He was completely gone. A second death, banished from this realm. 

“He was hit by divine energy,” is all she said.

It was all she could say. She had now watched him die, helplessly, twice. She grappled in her troubled mind for purpose, for a reason not to crumble where she stood. Her brother. Her oath. She had to make it all mean something. 

She would find her brother, she would find a teacher, she would defeat Marius, and her great uncle would die… Screaming. 

She planted her sword and sat as her allies were in chaos around her. Her grandfather said she needed to dream so she was going to try. She closed her eyes as her friends all surrounded her. Cillian, in one of his moments of remarkable tenderness, tried to comfort her. Aidan placed a hand upon her, his adopted daughter's, shoulder and squeezed. 

She loved them in that moment. She loved this group in every moment. Her adopted family that was risking all to help her. She couldn’t help but feel her inadequacy. Her inability to answer her calling, and her staggering incompetence was placing them in further danger. She would lose a second family if she did not get it together. 

She couldn’t concentrate after this day. She barely registered the physical damage from the fight because her mind was drowning. 

Derik held her as she stood, she was as hard a stone as she grappled to keep it together. She tried to be strong, to not be afraid, and to have some answer to all this.

Then she broke. Sobbing in his arms. 

They went back to the harbor to discuss their next move, but she was a wreck. Completely desolated in her despair. Derik spent the night trying to ease her to restless sleep.

“I am Lannia Tannen… The spirit who… The spirit… No…”

“I am Little Lani… And I am so scared. Gods help me."

[*UQT]

“She has the sight,” Her grandfather had scolded, “She should see the path.”
All this time she had forgiven her stumbling for lack of a teacher, but her grandfather’s words made it plain. She should know. She should have always known. She was just a failure.

She had so easily recognized her great uncle’s name. It should have been a warning bell in her head. She should have been on alert. She should have known what was going to happen when those men approached her grandfather’s spirit. She should have saved him.

It pained her that she had not immediately recognized him, and to find out her brother was in Marius’ hands… How long had Marius had him? How many times had she passed her own brother in the stronghold and not even recognized him? Not remembering their names had been something she could forgive herself for. Her memories were a tangled mess, but she had always taken comfort that she remembered their faces, their laughter. 

But she hadn’t. Derik caught on sooner than she to the fact that she faced her own grandfather. Try as she may to remember the faces at the stronghold, she could not remember any of them being any of her three brothers. She began to question everything.

She stared at the back of Aidan’s blonde head, walking in front of her, and she wondered. She remembered her father as a fair-haired, blue eyed man. Was that the truth? Or had her bond with Aidan imposed itself to fill the gaps in her torn memories. She remembered thinking of how much Aidan resembled her father when she got her memories back. Was that the case? Or was the resemblance her mind’s broken way of filling a hole. 

She had looked at her own reflection and seen her mother, but was this the truth? No one had recognized her. Did she know her own mother’s face?

A deep hopelessness filled her.

[*UQT]

A single drop hit the surface of the water, then another. Each drop, drip, drip, dipping. It was maddeningly loud. Her head pounded from days of trying to meditate on what her grandfather had tasked her with. A few ours were spent eating or looking for a teacher because Derik insisted on the breaks. 

For many hours between his duties he’d maintained a vigil over her, and she felt his eyes upon her. He didn’t know how to help her with this. He’d taught her to swing a sword. He’d worked with her on tumbling and taught her draconic, but to use a sight he didn’t have? He was helpless to guide her in this. Though he was silent, and stoic, she could feel it ripping him apart. 

Distracted again. She berated herself and tried to ignore him. The best way to alleviate his suffering would be to master this. Master this thing she’d never had guidance in. Master this thing she was just supposed to know how to do…

And then she was looking through her fingers in her mind. She watched through small, outstretched fingers, as the most wonderful man in the world was incinerated. The most powerful man, the man who should have lived forever. She watched through the fingers of the hands that should have saved him. Through the fingers of a prodigy, and his successor. She watched those fingers age, and then watched him die again, in blinding divine light.

Her eyes snapped open. Derik’s hand found hers as if sensing her distress. He led her away for another meal and suggested that they seek Lady Fierlith for further guidance. She was not a shaman, but she had visions, and it had to be better than nothing. 

She met with the lady and through their discussion, the Lady said that Lannia was not likely to proceed further until she addressed the blocks she placed before herself. Lannia’s guilt and feelings of inadequacy needed to be addressed. 

Lannia returned home and meditated. How might she address these issues? How might she gain confidence in herself and forgive herself for letting her grandfather die? For not being able to help her siblings sooner?

Lannia had hidden behind her grandfather, she had been suppressed beneath Marius, and since gaining her freedom had hidden behind the power of her allies and adopted family. She had not trusted herself, her bow, her sword, or her spirits to do anything of significance alone. She only allowed herself to be support, and it was time to take the front.

And so she authored for herself a series of challenges…

[*UQT]

Challenge One: Face the Beast… Alone.


How many times had she ventured into the temple of the Yaun-ti to dispatch their new queen with a group of friends? Dozens. She had never once ventured into their territory alone. 

As the gravel crunched beneath her feet she summoned Cider. Cider was the name she’d affectionately given the spirit who most often came when she called. He liked to manifest as a wolf or a lion, but today he was a bear. Deep, ageless eyes looked into her and then he was gone up the mountain ahead of her. 

Arrows flew, Yaun-ti fell, and soon she found herself at the door of the Yaun-ti throne room. It was time for the big spells now. She opened the planar gate and called Solar to her side. She dumped magic into him to make him stronger, faster, and harder to hit. She ran into the room behind him. 

A severely wounded shamaness barely barred the door behind herself as Yaun-ti guardians descended. Lannia managed to subdue them as the queen clawed at the barred door behind her. Out of spells, out of summons, and bleeding out, she did all she could; she ran.

She stepped into the spirit realm and ran through the plane toward the exit. The yaun-ti could not see her like this, but her time on the other side was limited. Just as she began to materialize she threw herself through the portal and into daylight.

She sat in Soubar, replaying her defeat in her mind. She simply had not had the power to keep her summons warded, and fighting. Nor could she keep them or herself healed. It was then that it dawned on her that she was still acting like support. She was relying on her summons to fight the queen while she hid behind them. She downed her cider and restocked her supplies.

Once again she went up the mountain, once again she stood at the door to the queen, and once again she opened a gate and summoned a great creature to her side. This time she chose the bard, so that he might support her with spells and protective wards. She did not pour her magic into making him stronger. The spirits were here to support her, to serve as a distraction, and do what damage they could manage before the were killed or summoned back to the planes. 

She placed more trust in her favor with the spirits. She allowed herself to take a lot of damage, to the brink of death, before healing herself. She kept as much magic as she could to rain down blows upon the Yaun-ti queen. Spells echoed off the throne room walls, arrows flew off her bow, and summons appeared, lent aid and fell. 

Her quivers nearly empty, her last summon fallen, and the last of her magic power in sight, the Yaun-ti queen still stood. Lannia looked into the cold eyes of the serpent queen and stowed her bow. The queen was bloodied and near death herself, but the snake looked at Lannia as if it sensed the best of Lannia’s tricks were spent and hissed. 

Lannia drew her longsword and her heavy shield and roared back at the Yaun-ti queen. She called the spirit of the storm and the spirits of fire to herself. Lightning and flames licked off her form as she mounted her final charge. 

Toe to toe, blow for blow, Lannia refused to retreat. Bleeding and out of magic she required only one heal potion to keep going. At just the right moment, the snake made a critical error, bringing her face down to strike Lannia as Lannia brought her sword up. 

Lannia kicked the carcass off her with a heavy groan. She sat there a moment and then cackled madly. She’d done it. She’d killed the Yaun-ti queen. She collected her well-earned prizes and left the temple with her head held high.

[*UQT]

Challenge Two: Be the Front Line.

She prodded the fire in Nashkel as she listened to a group of three new adventurers talk about their power. They estimated that they could easily storm the frost keep and she looked them over as they spoke. 

Lock picks dangled from the belt of one, a rogue most likely. Probably light on her feet but downright squishy otherwise. The other sported long mage robes and thought very much of his intelligence. He would not last if anything breached the front line. The third, an archer, was also sure his arrows would pierce the heart of the great frost king.

Killing the frost king was not her aim. This lot was intent on stupidity, and so it was the perfect chance for her to be the shield that saved them. She meant to take them up the mountain and safely see them back again after they ran from the king screaming.

She replayed in her head all the things she told them;

“Don’t stand in the storm.”
“Kill the minions first.”
“If I say run… RUN and don’t stop until you are back in Nashkel.”

It was that first one. Sure enough she was slinging healing spells left and right to keep them from dying in the storm. The Frost King hits hard and resists most spells. Solar was dead entirely too fast. She was forced to keep the king’s attention, do the lion’s share of the cutting on him, and cast healing spells at the three young ones who just couldn’t stay out of the blasted storms. 

Worse, when her healing magic was gone, she told them to run and they all charged the king, refusing to leave. She tossed healing potions to them, using up almost two stacks off kits, and 12 healing potions to keep them alive. 


The king finally fell and they all cheered. She would have ripped their heads off, but she was too pleased with herself to care about telling them what absolute fools they were. She led them down the mountain to safety, and they didn’t reimburse her for a single potion or kit, nor did they buy her a drink. Still…

She’d done it. She’d kept someone else alive by standing in the front.

[*UQT]

Forgive, dream, walk, learn ((Part One))

It was dark. The fog was crisp and cold. How had she gotten here? She looked up through the swaying grass at the starry sky and remembered her day.

She had spoken a long time to Teris, about life and guilt and change. The part about guilt, and forgiveness had stuck in her gut and moved around. She went about her normal business, and returned home. Then she was here. Had she fallen asleep? Was she dreaming?

She sat up and looked into the eyes of her constant companion, Cider. Cider stood and moved away, then turned and looked back to be sure she was following. She pushed to her feet and followed.



“You have come far,” Cider… SPOKE?

Lannia froze in her tracks, “Since when do you speak?”

“I speak,” Cider answered, “When you are ready to hear it.”

“So,” She started, “It’s working? I am growing in power.”

“More like you are accessing more of the power you already possess,” Cider explained, “But for now you hear me on my power, not yours. Come.”

A tiny sprite-like spirit flittered by. It stopped just short of Lannia’s face and smiled, “Sister! It’s been so long!”

“Begone,” Cider grumbled before Lannia could respond, “Lesser fey, she is not here for a social call.”

The spirit huffed and flitted away. The sentiment was not lost to her, “Here?”

“You are venturing in the deepest parts of your own soul,” Cider said, “Here you are linked the world beyond worlds, where the spirits roam. Shaman are born with this connection to us, elementalists share an even deeper connection, as you are part of the very energy that sustains both worlds on a fundamental level. That is why you can see that water spirit at all. She was excited to see you, because you can see her. Most Shaman cannot. That is why you see so clearly into the value of others, value that they cannot see in themselves. Your sight is linked to the fabric of existence on all planes. There is not a single plane in which you would not see the un-seeable, and sense intimate and hidden truths.”

They continued along and came to a pete bog. A tortoise slowly craned it’s head toward her and cider set beside it. 

Lannia let out a sigh, “The tortoise I carry?”

“I exist only in you and for you,” The tortoise said in a shaking voice, sounding much like an old woman, “I am a representation of your core. The essential nature of your wisdom.”

“She is your guide,” Cider added.

“Ah…” Lannia said, rather un-impressed, “I kind of thought that was you, or my grandfather… So out of all the spirits to guide me, the spirits sent a turtle.”

“The spirits do not choose the guide,” Cider grumbled.

“I chose a turtle?” Lannia asked.

The tortoise blurted out a warm, matronly laugh and said, “You -are- the turtle... Er, tortoise.”

Lannia sat and tried to squash her feelings of being, well, underwhelmed. Okay, she was a turtle... Tortoise... Whatever... She asked the most reasonable question, “What does that mean?”

“Do you see yourself, child?” The tortoise asked, “By the form you have chosen. I question if you are ready to speak to me so…”

She looked down at herself and noticed how small she was. She worked round, nubby fingers, but when she spoke it was her adult voice, “I don’t understand.”

“Yes you do, because I understand,” The tortoise corrected, “You do not allow yourself to see. Look over there…”

Tortoise motioned into a thick tangle of brambles. Deep in the tangle was a large, rotten door, locked behind bars, chains, and near comically sized lock. The door was huge, how had she missed it? The tortoise’s voice shook. 

“Behind that door are your worst memories,” It warned, “Things that might break your spirit as you are, and plunge you into darkness.”

“Who locked them there,” Lannia asked.

“You did, child,” The tortoise answered, “There were wards to make you forget, placed by Marius… Those are gone. Everything that remains is your own creation.”

She sat silently and stared. Unconsciously she began to move toward it. Cider leapt between her and the door and growled, “You are not ready.”

“You must remember yourself before you will be able to access the inner strength to open and face what lies on the other side of that door,” The Tortoise said in a near whisper, “Sit child, and walk back with me to the beginning… Remember…”

Lannia sat and then suddenly found herself floating. She saw her grandfather fighting evil spirits, saving spirits from becoming evil, and resolving disputes between the spirits and the human realm. As he did a small point of light formed. 

“When a person gives more love than they receive,” The tortoise’s voice rang out, “A power otherwise unknown is accessed. This is why love is more powerful than hate. Hate must operate on what already exists, love can create something new.”

The point of light grew and grew. She watched her grandfather meet her grandmother.



“You are a little bit of a man, “The taller women teased.

“I am?” The small red-haired shaman asked, “Oh! You mean standing up.”

She watched them raise a family and start the village together. She watched him cultivate the earth and yield more than the village could ever use. She watched him deliver the extra to neighboring villages when their fields were bare. Still the light grew.

She watched her mother grow up. She watched, as years of courtship passed while her father pursued her mother. Her grandfather continued his service to the spirits, her mother served the sick and elderly, and the light grew blinding. 

She floated in warmth at the time of her conception and felt the light envelop her and sink into her. 

“You were born to the spirits,” The tortoise said, “They watched over the energy of the love your grandfather created until it required a vessel. Your mother gave birth to that vessel and you were gifted to the world.”

She watched her mother and father, crying tears of joy and embracing the small infant that was her. The tortoise gave a warm, understanding chuckle, “So concerned with being your grandfather’s successor, you have forgotten that you are already so much more…”

Then she saw her grandfather enter and look down upon her. Instantly love washed over his features. 

“You are his legacy,” The tortoise said softly, “As all children, you are the gift his love has born unto the mortal world.”

She crashed down upon the earth and opened her eyes to look upon the tortoise once more.

“What’s more… You are the embodiment of all the love and goodness he put into both worlds,” The tortoise explained, “A love so strong, Chauntea still holds a foot on that barren rock. The plants still grow unnaturally to mark the place where so much love and faith once resided. 17 years later, you saw the vegetation there.”

The spirits laughed together and Cider said, “To lower yourself to merely following, to be a mere successor.”

“I am… My grandfather’s legacy…” She said, and more importantly… She believed it. Warmth filled her. 

She looked down upon herself and saw her mature body, naked and vulnerable. She clasped her arms over her form and Cider openly laughed out, “What do you think you are hiding from me? Do you think there is something I desire in that form?”

“Still not quite there…” The tortoise said, shaking it’s head, “Go back now. Think on what you have learned.”

She opened her mouth to speak and sudden felt ripped backwards, slung back into conscious reality. 

She opened her eyes and looked down on the dough in her hands… She had experienced all of that standing over a mound of half-kneaded sourdough. Then she felt his arms around her. 

“Lannia, Beloved Flame of my soul... can we talk for a moment?” Derik said softly…

[*UQT]

((Part 2))

The crisp air whisked around her. She was here again, it was getting easier to be here. 
“You lost your natural family,” The tortoise said gently.

The tortoise was suddenly massive, and carried a vast wilderness with houses upon its back. 



She was barely able to take it in before she was surrounded by her friends. She saw herself fighting at Derik and Ronja’s side, warding and healing them. She drank and laughed with Gunthar. She hugged Aidan fiercely and cast her line next to Michael. She saved Adira, brought her back from death, and Adira’s sword in turn defended her. She met over tea with the foxy four, and joked with Luke over the conflict between Luskan and Rauthym. She showed Adallan her favorite peaceful place, and drew snail shells in painstaking detail for Betha. She called Urth cutie and he called her cuddles over a glass of his finest wine. Adelaide spoke to her about fear and faith, and Gaven made her pancakes. 

“And as soon as you were able to be yourself you created a new one. The people around you can sense your profound love… They bind to you willingly, for they know you would give all to protect them. All mankind seems to wear a mask, but around you, they are their purest self. They know they can be, and that you will see and accept them.”

“You accepted me as I was and to you, I was always the best possible version of myself…”

Their voices rang in her ears, and her hands closed around her greatsword. The tortoise continued, “You are born of love, acceptance, and peace, from the fabric that binds all the planes. You bind people with the strongest possible glue; unconditional love.”

“I love you,” She heard her voice saying over and over to everyone, “You are my family and I love you.”

Her skin was no longer bare. She looked down onto shining armor.

“Even those shunned, and people who would not normally come together, would come together for you,” The tortoise said, “The loners, the tired, the forgotten are at peace where you are.”

“Some say you are a wonderful person,” Teris whispered, “Worth more than gold, and it is probably true.”

“You are the one person that might reach her,” a priestess said, “The only one she trusts.” 

Voices rang out one after another. There were so many that she only caught a few. 

“I never told anyone your secret, I would die before I revealed you.”
“Because you are perhaps the kindest person I know.”
“I have never seen you do anything but give to the people around you. Let us return some small favor.”
“Let us share your load.”
“You are precious to me, as precious as a daughter born to me.”
The tortoise laughed happily, “You are the essence of the best thing to come from love; family. To know you, to be your friend is to be adopted, and to find a home. In return for the spiritual strength, and the support you lend, they pledge their strength to you. Not because you asked it… You never would.”

And then she was alone with Cider in circle of her friends.

“Do you think it is coincidence that the most powerful armoring ward is called tortoise shell?” Cider asked.

“I understand,” Lannia said, “The tortoise, my guide, and that which represents my most essential self is the avatar of family, love and protection.”

Strings of light erupted from her friends, and as they enveloped her she heard Cider’s triumphant howl echo through her soul.

Her head snapped up, and she looked around the room. Derik laid beside her, curled around her in his sleep. She had just sent the letter to Fierlith describing the last dream and already there was another. As with most things she had worked tirelessly to make no progress, and then something gave inside and a flood was started. She could feel it. She was on the verge of truly unlocking her sight. 

She rolled over and gently kissed Derik’s forehead, “You knew I could do it. You never stopped believing in me.”

She gently slipped from the bed and ran to write the dream down.

[*UQT]

Part 3: Challenge 3: Face yourself and forgive.

Fully armored in shining light and holding her greatsword, she stood before the barred, chained, and locked door. The tortoise was now so large Lannia could disappear into its massive flaring nostrils and never be found. It’s thundering footsteps were heard far off in the distance, but as it came closer it shrank. By the time it stood over the doorway its head was roughly as wide as a person. It craned down to look at her. 

“I wish it were that easy for me to lose weight,” Lannia joked, “So I find myself here again… Am I just going to come here every time I close my eyes now?”

Hohohohoooo, the tortoise’s deep thundering laughed rang out, “You will come here when you need to… Or want to.”

Cider let out a small whine, “Are you sure she is ready?”

“She is,” Tortoise said at the same time Lannia said, “I am.”

“One spirit must enter with you,” Cider said in a tone that was not pleased.

A dark shadow gathered and took shape berfore her. Ominous red eyes stared into her and then it spoke, “This one is Twi. Twi is honored to enter with the misssstresssss.”

Lannia did not like what she saw when she looked into the spirit. She looked to the Tortoise and back to Twi, then to Cider. 

“You must take it with you,” Cider sneered and laid down by the door, “Trust me, if I could, I was rip that shadow into so many whisps of smoke it would take hours to reform.”

“Twi loves Na'qpote too,” Twi crooned, “Oh great hunter of the spirits.”

Twi bowed to Cider, but Lannia got the feeling it was a bow offered in jest. 

“Na'qpote?” Lannia asked.

“I have many names,” He answered lazily, “I like Cider.”

She smiled and looked at the door. She took a breath, not that breathing was necessary here, and asked, “How do we begin?”

“Tis locked by the mistress,” Twi answered, “If the mistress wills it to open… Open it will.”

Cider grumbled, “Remember… There are some truths you want behind this door, but there are also horrors you knew would break you if you had learned them too soon. This experience will not be… Pleasant. You must remember who you are, who you return to, and your mission.”

“Thissss one will be with the mistress,” Twi hissed with delight, “This one, will witness.”

She nodded and looked hard at the door. She braced herself for what she would see and walked toward it. As she stepped closer the chains and bars crumbled, and the padlock fell to the ground with a dull thud and rusted to dust. The door creaked open, she felt deep, deep despair as she walked through the frame and Twi followed. 

……

Lannia sat at the table and penned the lastest dream as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“What I saw was indeed horrific. I knew Marius had used me to manipulate and kill people. I could remember their faces like a warning. Now I remember exactly and in painful detail how I did it, the cruelty of it. 

I saw the… things… Marius did to me. I saw the various tortures I was subjected to. Worse… I relived them. 

Marius gloated every time I was beaten. He told me about the various deaths of the people of my village in graphic detail and laughed at me as I wept in despair. Over and over again. 

I estimated I had been erased and rewritten by him 15 or so times. Now I remember every life in striking clarity. I have lived as 23 different personalities, and I almost got lost in them.

All the while Twi was there. He asked, “Why did no one care? How could a small child be taken and tortured like that? Was there anything worthy in the world of the living?”

I realized his cruel function quickly. He was there to tempt me away from the light. As if these memories were not enough, he was there to drag me into darkness. 

The final vision was… “

……

Lannia stood at the center of two scenes. A six year old self stood over her grandfather’s ashes, and her current self shielded her eyes from a blinding light. Lannia looked to Twi and said, “I thought the door held the pieces of my memory that I locked away. I remember these scenes.”

Twi laughed cruelly, “This the mistress has brought with her, perhaps she hopes to lock it in here and forget it? All the -guilt-?”

Twi circled the small child version of Lannia, frozen in time with ashes on her hands. She was perpetually looking down into her tiny, sausage fingers with shock and grief etched on her little doll face. It was horrifying; a gut wrenching sight for anyone that ever saw a child smile. There was something unnatural in the viewing of her small face twisted in so much pain and confusion. 

“Why didn’t she save him?” Twi asked, “The great avatar of love, family, and protection, and the mistress did… Nothing.”

“I was six,” She ground out.

“And here?” Twi asked walking to the other scene, “Why nothing here?”

Lannia looked down at the ground. Twi spoke softly, “And he was soooo mean to the mistress… After all she has been through. To speak to the mistress like a failure? This one thinks it is a miracle the mistress survived.”

Every part of her soul felt bruised. She ached in the deepest parts of herself, and she was barely hanging on. She felt Twi draw near to her as it said, “This one… Would not blame the mistress if she had let him die again to punish him.”

“That’s not what happened!” Lannia growled.

“Twi must be close,” Twi said, “Mistress is very defensive. Perhaps not… Perhaps the mistress is just not as powerful as Twi believed?”

It was then that she realized she was sinking into the sands beneath her feat. She struggled and flailed, dropping her sword. 

“He trusted the mistress…” 

She clawed at the edges, trying to crawl free. 

“The spirits fled and he stayed to speak to her.”

She grasped for anything that she might hold to keep herself above the shifting ground.

“He stayed and the mistress did not protect him… Avatar of protection and love.”

She gasped a final time before her head went under…

.......

“Widen your stance,” Derik said and moved in behind her, “Like this.”

She listened and tried to adjust. Derik let out a heavy sigh, “Are you ever going to get this right?”

“What?” Lannia asked in shock. Derik had always taught her so patiently.

“I guess your incompetence shouldn’t surprise me,” Derik said in a cruel, distant voice, “You let your grandfather die, your whole village! You are pathetic.”

She stared at him, her heart breaking in her chest. Then she heard Lady Fierlith’s voice.

“Your grandfather should have known danger was coming, like the other spirits,” She said, “He must have known what was coming. There is a reason he stayed.”

“He stayed,” Lannia started, “To warn me… To protect me. He chose to die for me.”

She could see Derik yelling at her but the sound was gone. In her head she heard the tortoise, “In return for the spiritual strength, and the support you lend, they pledge their strength to you. Not because you asked it… You never would.”

“You never asked him to die for you... You never would. No one would ask you to die for them, but you would do so without their permission. That is the nature of love.”

She looked into Derik’s angry, venomous face. 

“You accepted me… And loved me… As the best possible version of myself…” she heard the voices of her family say.

She cupped his face in her hands and he froze, confused.

“I love you,” She heard her voice saying over and over, “You are my family and I love you.”

She kissed him as tears ran down her cheeks. She whispered, “This is not you, you always believed in me. Like my grandfather did. He died for me… Twice, because he loved me and he believed in me.”

She kissed him again, “As I would die for you… Because you are worthy. There would be nothing to forgive. Because I chose it… I choose you, and you would do the same for me.”

Somewhere she heard Twi cry in agony, and she found herself back by Cider and the tortoise.

Cider and the Tortoise looked upon her as she cried for several moments.

“Crying is okay,” The tortoise finally said in a hushed voice, “It was gift to mortals to let emotions that are too big to contain spill out and heal the world.”

“Apparently you can cry here too?” Lannia whimpered.

“If you need to,” Cider said, “And you need to.”

.....

As she penned the final lines the tears continued to fall. That is when she looked across the table. Cider sat there as casually as a person. 

“It is time to confront your uncle…”