Brewday, the 9th of Busheldown

Upon a desk in Qeynos, deep within a library, sits a pedestal. This pedestal was designed to hold a Greater Lightstone, but this particular piece did not do so – instead it held a blue hued stone that danced above a faded rainbow circle.

A woman sits at the desk, her long, curling fiery red hair tumbling over her shoulders like a waterfall at sunset. Before her on the desk is a thick leatherbound tome; it is open to a section near the middle, and her fingertips trace over the delicate writing while her other hand hovers over the stone.

The stone pulses with a faint light, images swirling to life inside it as she reads. The images come from her memories as she reads over her own past, the stone slowly leeching away each scene.

Once she finishes reading, she looks to the stone and whispers gently to it. Instantly, the immediate area fades away and the images from her memories come to life about her, and she watches them play out.

One man appears many, many times as the memories play out, and each time she cries silently as she watches him – once there was a time where the two were together everyday, until the man vanished without a trace.

When the scenes finish their dance, the room fades back into view. Behind her, fast asleep on the bed, lies a different half-elven man; his hair is white, streaked with red and his skin is ashen. His chest is bare above the covers, and his arm is stretched out over the bed as if expecting someone else to be there.

Sighing softly, the woman raises her other hand to the orb and closes her eyes.

“The following events transpired on Brewday, the 9th of Busheldown. Kacer and I had been relaxing at the Raven, having not seen each other for a nearly a week. He had taken to doing what he could to make me blush, without attracting much attention, when a woman walked in that would shatter our peace,” she thought quietly.

As she walked down the stairs, the half elven woman yawned and called out, “Hello, everyone.”

Kacer smirked down at the woman in his arms, replying, “Well we're even, I'm quite the expert at vanishing.”

She giggled, nodding slightly to Trecle, curling up closer against Kacer as she quietly said, “Maybe. You've yet to vanish on me.”

The half elven woman walked to the bar, ordering a drink and a plate of fruit before settling down at a near-by table. She sat down a bag, and began rummaging through its contents while she waited for her order.

“Now why would I want to do a thing like that?” Kacer asked, smiling down at the fiery red-head in his arms.

“Well, I mean...eh,” she replied, flustered and blushing madly, “just saying that I don't believe you're good at vanishing because I haven't seen you do so yet.”

The drunken Ratonga at the bar looked to the half elven woman and sputtered, “Hello....well my sister....hates me...I stole her boyfriend along time agao...so she had him killed and then came after me herself. Ands she has yets to gets me!”

The crazed rat laughed delighted and sipped at his drink, staring at the half elven woman as he did.

“Sounds like a bad day. Lets see I just got some of my memory back am looking for someone I care about deeply and cant find,” she rattled off, smiling and winking at the rat, “and much other things. But its a good day.”

“That an invitation?” Kacer asked, a sly smile that faded to a playful grin spreading across his lips as he stared down at her. “Are you asking me to vanish?”

She blinked, looking up at him with a frown, traces of fear in her eyes, “No! I mean, I uh...well, I didn't mean it like that...”

“I've had enough people vanish on me,” she whispered quietly a moment later, looking towards the doorway. She half expected Phenix to walk through the doors, perhaps near death, trying to find her, but they remained closed.

“Hells yes my sister has a tendency to fall in love with extreamly....strong....feminine men. ha...lucky me!” the Ratonga giggled before asking, “Feeling better Trecle?”

“I was only playing, I didn't mean it that way,” his smile slipped away as he looked down, voice fading into a whisper as he kissed her cheek, “Sorry I forgot, I got carried away.”

She shook her head, sighing slightly as she curled up against Kacer. Quietly, her voice almost airy, “I...I know. I shouldn't have gotten upset, it's just that....well, you know what happened with Phenix and everything…”

“I know. I forgot sometimes I'm not the only one whose lost people along the way,” he whispered gently to her, “I'll try to be more mindful.”

“Yes much better. Thank you, Baxter,” the half elf girl replied, finding the odd rat had fallen asleep. Her ears perked slightly as Avaria spoke, and she said, “I know that name – Phenix.”

Avaria looked over to the half elven woman, her silver eyes going wide as the colour drained from her already pale features. She stammered out, “You...you do?”

“Yes.. Did somethign happen to him?” the woman asked before stating, “He is in my book sketches from the past.”

Kacer turned to glance at the woman, a slight look of annoyance washing over his features as he pulled Avaria closer to him, not wanting to loose the peaceful evening they were having any more than he already had.

“Would you like to see them?” she asked Avaria.

For a moment, the high elven woman sat stunned, holding onto Kacer as if she would fall over otherwise. After a moment, she whispered, “Yes please...and he, well, he went missing and I believe he was killed.”

Kacer leaned his head forward, looking down at the woman in his arms, his face instinctively softening as he looked at her. Quietly, hoping she would change her mind, he asked, “You sure about this?”

“I...I have to,” she replied, nodding slightly.

“You don't 'have' to do anything,” he said, tilting his head to give her a puzzled look, “The question was asking if you wanted to.”

His statement went unanswered, as the woman spoke again before Avaria even had time to think upon his words.

“I am missing someone too we can not find,” she said sadly, reaching down into her bag. Carefully, she pulled out three very, very old sketchbooks and walked over to sit in front of the couch Kacer and Avaria were on.

“These where foudn with me,” she explained, opening up a red sketchbook and leafing through a few pages. Each page had a different image of an older Phenix, but it was clearly the same man Avaria knew.

She stared at the images before quietly, the tremble audible in her voice as she looked at the woman, she asked, “Where...where were these found? And do you know from when they were from?”

“You speak of someone now though.. This man was,” the other woman paused thoughtfully, “Well, he’s in pictures of a long ago.”

“He,” the high elf began, pausing. “It is a long story, but he was alive in the now and he was alive in the Age of Turmoil.”
“These were found with me when I was found,” she answered, “and there from oh about 500 years ago from what we can figure.”

Smiling slightly as she watched Avaria pick up the red sketchbook, she said, “I am Trecle Everhart, pleasure to meet you.”

The woman on the couch nodded to Trecle, barely able to look away from the sketchbook, the images of Phenix and Brodis stealing nearly all of her attention. Finally she replied, “Avaria Calacirya...do you, well, have any idea why you have these books, or who had them before you?”

After seeing several sketches, she murmured, “Gods, he looks so old...”

“No I was only told that they where mine,” Trecle said, frustrated, “And that they would tell me of my past. Not that they have helped me in anyway."

Avaria turned a page to see an image of Phenix standing beside a woman. The woman looked quite familiar from a description he had given her after they had encountered Latharos down in Stormhold. Trecle saw the image she stared at, and pulled out a small wedding band.

“This belonged to the women there in that picture,” she said, pointing to the woman in the image. “A man named Lexior gave it to me.”

The high elf continued to look through the sketchbooks, looking up at Trecle from time to time. A slight prick of jealousy stabbed into her heart whenever an image of Areanna and Phenix would appear before her eyes, but largely she felt a fond sadness as she looked over the images.

“Areanna Imshee'cro...I know her, well, what she looks like,” she murmured idley. “Phenix, uh, showed me.”

Annoyed, Kacer pulled away from Avaria, taking a long sip of his drink before setting it aside and folding his arms. He leaned back, watching the two women, wishing that Phenix had never existed.

With the book open to an image of Areanna and Phenix, Avaria looked between Trecle and the book again, brow furrowing in thought, as if she debated on saying something or remaining silent.

Trecle caught her quizzical looks and laughed gently before replying, “Yes, I know the women looks like me. Everyone says that. I figure she is some anseter or something.”

“I think you may be her grand daughter or great granddaughter,” Avaria replied absently, turning the pages again. “Areanna's surname was Everhart, though Phenix never explained to me when it changed, only that her Father gave her a new surname.”
An elaborate and detailed image unfolded over two pages, and Trecle pointed to it excitedly, as if it might be one of her most favourite sketches, exclaiming, “Look here – Areanna wedding.”

Nodding to Trecle, she flipped through the sketchbook several more times. She paused often, staring down at an image that appeared to be two half elven boys. It was Phenix and Brodis, it had to be, and the image of both of them together unnerved Avaria further. Absently, her fingers reached up to the tiny jeweled firefly in her left ear, almost afraid that Brodis was watching her…knew about what was happening between her and Kacer.

Still quite annoyed, Kacer played with a string at the edge of his shirt as he shifted slightly on the couch. Their conversation was unnerving as much as it was annoying, and the half elf was quite upset by how deeply it had drawn in his companion.

The book opened again to the wedding, and Avaria again looked at the image Trecle showed her, nodding slowly as she replied, “I've heard about that event, though from others who were alive then.”

Trecle nodded, opening another book to show Avaria sketches of two half elves. They appeared to be a boy and a girl, the male baring a striking resemblance to Phenix while the girl looked a lot like Areanna and Trecle.

“That is Telian and Fenir I think,” she explained, “From what I can find out, anyways.”

Glancing at the other sketchbook, the high elf said plainly, “Their children.”

Avaria’s eyes slipped away to look down at another image of Phenix and Brodis together, and she realized she wished that Brodis had appeared that way when he had visited her, rather than the horrid, dead Ogre he had come to her as.

“That man there haunts my dreams,” Trecle murmured ominously as she pointed to Brodis. “I cannot get him out.”

Looking back down at the image of the twins, Trecle said, “It was said she died in childbirth. But legends say her father could not handle her death and he brought her back. Only no one has seen her since then.”

Holding up the sketchbook again, she showed Avaria an elaborate image that sprawled over two pages. The artistry was quite a bit different from the rest, almost out of place.

“She died, see there,” the other woman explained, “her funeral, drawn by someone else, is the last entry in the book.”

Almost hesitantly, Avaria said, “She was murdered, Trecle.”

“Oh that is a new story who murdred her?” Trecle said, seemingly not phased by the statement, only curious about it.

Avaria looked at the image of the funeral, recalling what Vahhn had told her as she explained, “Her aunt apparently. Even her guardian angel could not save her, and at the time, Phenix was no where to be found either.”

“No no,” Trecle replied. “Her death, just like the prophecy said, she died giving birth. Her aunt, um, I don’t remember her name, killed her before they had children. See here, she had to carry that.”

Trecle flipped back to some pages to an image of Areanna and Phenix standing next to the Lord of Darkeness, Faileas. The man seemed larger than life, frightening even in imagery, strange gauntlets seeming to claw their way up his arms, his long hair falling over his shoulders.

Kacer finally slid his eyes towards them both, then glanced at the books. A frown crossed his face with each mention of the name Phenix as they speak, but he continued to keep his arms folded…his ears tilted curiously towards the conversation as he sits idly, drinking from his cup from time to time.

“Hmm. I suppose the person who told me withheld some information on the whens,” Avaria pondered.

“Something that kept her alive,” Trecle explained, “her guardian angel gave his life for her to keep hers. I could be wrong though.. I only see the visions of the dreams of those times.”

After watching Avaria stare at the images of Phenix for a long moment, Trecle asked, “Is there a way to find out when the last time he was killed?”

Absently, the high elf nodded slightly, staring down at an image of one half elven man, then flipping to another to stare before looking back at the first. She recalled the intensity of the feelings Brodis had shared with her that night on the shores of Port Naythex, recalled how she had found that he was not a demon, but a powerful Nature spirit.

“He...he's not so bad, the man who haunts your dreams. He, well, he has left Norrath now as he is largely disinterested and content with how the world has become once more,” she murmured.

“Good then,” Trecle prickled, “He can stay out of my head and saying strange things.It seems like a very intrsting history though.”

Sighing, Trecle closed the book she held, explaining, “I have stopped my research because I am looking for Selgren – he has gone missing and its worrying me very much.”
Avaria nodded faintly, staring down at the images, her features pale as if she'd seen a ghost. Tears formed in her eyes, but she did not cry as she stared at her lost love.

“It was, from what little I've found of it for him...before he...,” her voice faded as she fought back the tears that threatened to spill over her cheeks.

Smiling softly, Trecle took her hand and gently said, “You know, the history accounts that a Stormryder can not be killed. Don’t give up hope. And if he did die, he will be safe.”

At the other woman’s words, the high elf nearly fell over, her other hand holding the sketchbook against her chest. She tried to speak, her mouth moving without sound. Kacer lifted a brow as he turned to look but doesn't move from his spot. He recalled that a strange woman who seemed touched with prophetic abilities had told him a Phoenix would rise from the flames of an old lover to seek him out, but he tried to push such thoughts from his mind.

“H-he can't. Not with...w-with that man fr-from your dr-dreams gone,” she finally stammered out.

“You can never lose something part of you, miss, never,” Trecle whispered, “their in your blood.”

Carefully Avaria closed the sketchbook, her expression torn between fear and sadness, her hands cold, body trembling. She whispered faintly, “He's not a phoenix...” as the wind about her kicked up slightly, caressing her almost as if it is concerned for her.

“No, but he is a fighter,” the other woman said gently, “You know him not me…you would know better though.”

Avaria handed the book back to Trecle, looking at her but not quite focusing on her. She glanced around the tavern before standing, the bottle of wine spilling as her foot taps against it

“I..." she began, the first tear falling down her cheek as she turns for the door, “I...have to go...

She murmured something about ancient gnolls as she walked quickly towards the door. She slipped out the door, breaking into a run as her body rapidly morphed into that of a small, winged being.

Leaning back in her chair, Avaria sighed deeply. She felt the pains of guild as she recalled the event, feeling horrible at how she had let Kacer vanish from her mind when someone brought anything of Phenix to her. Chasing the ghost of her past had hurt him deeply, and she felt horrible that she had not been able to accept that Phenix was gone and enjoy what Kacer had offered her.

Glancing back at his form, she smile slightly before turning to the stone again, hands lifting once more.

“It was then I returned here to Qeynos, making arrangements with my landlord in case I did not come back. Once I was assured that my treasures would be given to the Concordium, I left for the lair of the Splitpaw Gnolls; sadly, they were so fierce, I could not even make it trough the upper levels of their tunnels,” she thought, sadness washing over her.

“Such feral and wild creatures would not allow anything but their own to live, I can see that now. He may have been alive when Norrath spoke to me, however, after what I have witnessed, I know he could not be so now.”

“Phenix Stormryder is dead,” she paused, mind swirling with intense sadness. “It is time to let his ghost go…”