Timestamp: 72nd of Fall +, 519 A.V.
Just when things were going fine, life was comfortable, and Kelski was starting to feel better after the stress of the move and establishing the Guild… life took a turn. It wasn’t one she expected nor anticipated, but it felt fated nonetheless. Her brand was gone. In its place, a resplendent eagle rose on her left buttock that burned with power, halting her aging so she could carry on a task that Nysel and Akajia had given her. It was hard for her to take in and she remembered Nysel’s words about her living a full life, having many many children, and guarding her family
A scroll case containing a blank scroll – one that would write itself as she explored – lay stretched across her lap. Its leather surface was etched with runes The Sea Eagle couldn’t read. They pulsed with power and that helped to soothe her, though the Kelvic couldn’t say why. Kelski stroked it where she sat, perched on the edge of her bed.
Her mind was so full it felt as if her thoughts were overflowing. She’d told Dessarian none of this, uncertain how to explain it even to herself let alone someone else outside of the sensation. Kelski had always fulfilled roles. She’d usually neatly fit into the role of possession, treasured valuable, and slave. She was a Master Jeweler now though, free, and in many ways a living weapon with her ability and aptitude with her daggers.
She could be an assassin easily enough, though killing held no appeal to her unless she was hungry and the prey was tasty. As a Nightstalker, she was a seeker of secrets for Akajia, always looking for answers to questions the Goddess didn’t usually share with her own.
Guild Leader… bondmate… mate. The roles she fulfilled circled through her mind, weaving a pattern over and over again. And now, Dreamwalker. She wasn’t sure how it worked, but Nysel had assured her that as his marked, she’d not fail to see the path before her.
Kelski sighed, scooted back on the bed, then lay down, still cradling the scroll case, though this time she did it as if it were a child, not a log laying across her lap. She felt her eyes drift closed. Kelski was, after all, tired. She was loathed to admit it to herself, but the exhaustion was there.
She worked long hours in her workshop, especially after the light failed, and during the day she kept pace with the others that were working so hard to make the Demesne something successful. It wasn’t work she could leave for others too. Hands on or nothing, the Kelvic felt it was more important than to be involved directly than supervise from afar.
It was with those thoughts in her head that she drifted off and felt herself somehow step sideways out of the mortal realm and directly into the chavena. The mark on her arm told her exactly what it was. Nysel’s power fed her information as well as directed her actions so she somehow knew exactly what to do. She was drifting in a great and beautiful nothing with silver cords floating all around her. The cords belonged to people. The name and purpose flooded her mind.
Chavi… everyone had one.
They were a written record of everyone’s life stored on a mystical cord that kept them anchored to the mortal realm and the mortal realm anchored to the divine realm. The Gods could play the chords like instrument strings… and the music the chavena made equated to the life that spread out upon Mizahar.