20th Day of Summer, 513 AV
The Sea of Grass was both beautiful and deadly, a fact she needed no reminder of. Countless experiences with both the Akalak and the Drykas had taught her that. But in so many ways, it was home. Undoubtedly. Sybel walked leisurely back toward the Sanctuary, crossbow slung over her shoulder and sword strapped at her hip. Her emerald cloak shimmied in the light breeze. It’d been a relatively uneventful walk. She’d considered maybe hunting some small game, but it struck her as unwise with the threat of glassbeak all about. So she stayed close to home and simply wandered, as she was wont to do.
She heard a noise - the sound of feet and crackling growth - so she hid behind the nearest tree, a blessed outlier of the Fringe Forest. The sudden outburst left her slightly winded. It seemed to be footsteps and as they drew nearer, the sun sank lower in the outstretched horizon. It was her hope to return home before Syna gave Leth his goodnight kiss, but this new development could prevent that. There was always the threat of the Cerulean. Sybel just prayed in silence that whoever it was would simply pass her by. Discretion kept her alive.
But mysteriously, they stopped short. That struck her as odd. They’d been walking to Riverfall rather than from. Curiosity overriding her better judgment, she peered from behind the tree to witness what was hands down, the most remarkable transformation she’d ever seen.
What had to be a Symenestra (and female at that) stood looking toward the rising moon, encompassed in a display of dazzling lights. Her whole body became engulfed, as if cocooned inside the star’s embrace before she re-emerged, wholly different from when she began. Beautiful raven hair replaced purest white and emerald horns, seemingly out of nowhere, curled delicately toward the sky. It was one of Leth’s children, the Ethaefal, a virtually unknown race to the likes of Sybel. She blinked before exclaiming:
”How in the petch did you do that?” Of course, realizing her ignorance, she revealed herself. ”I’m sorry,” she said, managing to look contrite. Sybel stepped out from behind the tree, silvery moonlight catching her hair. ”I’m just… Wow. Are you an... Etheefal?” Poor pronunciation and all.