The Ancients – Part 1

This chapter was written in collaboration with Scylla.

Amon had never been so glad to step off a ship as he was when they arrived in Limsa. It had been suns and maybe even sennights of nothing but ocean surrounding them. And while the weather held fair, he’d been subjected to Scylla’s helpful regimen.

Ever since the talk they had, she’d made herself more and more available, mostly in terms of treating what she saw as his ailments. She assigned him physical procedures, well as best as one could do confined to the deck of a ship, and ensured he carried them out to her liking.

Amon wasn’t sure if it actually helped anything, but his sore muscles spoke to the fact that he was, indeed, working parts of his form that rarely saw this kind of motion.

They spent very little time in Limsa – just enough for him to determine the next direct stop for them was an airship to Gridania. Neither of them wanted to show face there for worry of being identified, so they made little display of departing the ship and making double-time for North Shroud.

As the air around them grew more chill, he knew they would soon be entering the snow-swept lands of Coerthas. He glanced at Scylla with a word of warning, “How are you in cold weather? We’ve got a frigid stretch of area to cross before we get where we’re going.”

“Hmmm?  Don’t tell me your mystical castle is in Coerthas, Amon.”

Scylla looked up the sloping trail to where Amon stood.  She had spent a fair amount of time in the North Shroud, though she had not ever really ventured far into the Elezen-held mountains.

“Is this where you came from?”  Scylla questioned as she kept pace with the bard. “They say that a fair amount of Elezen live around here.”

Amon shook his head. “No, I hail not from this part of the world. My homeland is no longer named, but would have been once been located somewhere in the Shroud, I expect. I spent most of my life living in what’s now called Mor Dhona. But it’s merely a shadow of the place that it was before.”

His voice held a hint of true regret.

“Time and battle changes everything… and strips the beauty away, I’m afraid. But you shall see that for yourself when we get there.”

“Mor Dhona?  Is that where you are taking me?”

Scylla shook her head as she hiked up the route, waving her arms in front of him.

He really has gone off the deep end. Everyone knows that there is nothing there other than Revenant’s Toll.  Just a pile of a few broken down stone hovels, and termite ridden-bars with half distilled moonshine.

“I’ve let you get away with your cryptic temperament all the way across the ocean.”   Scylla stood firmly on the road with a hint of defiance in her eyes. “But what could possibly be in the ‘Toll that could be considered so ancient and important?”

She poked her finger in his nose.

“And don’t you try to tell me that you’re a Scion of the Seventh Dawn.  You don’t look the part of one of their ilk, and you certainly don’t act it.”  

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