Story: Echoes

Several Months Ago…
The skies had opened up and released the tears she herself could no longer find, bringing an almost violent ending to the assemblage as the two heavy wooden doors swung open as she left them in stunned silence.

“The Court of Mnemosynis is hereby disbanded,” echoed through her ears as she slowly made her way down the long hallways.

Every day, there were many meetings that took place within the walls of Qeynos’ castle, with all the quiet pomp and circumstance its nobility had become known for; while they were the “people’s nobility”, they still lived by a different set of rules. But, not all meetings were held with such gallantry…

For the first time in weeks, the full chiffon and silk skirts were confining, the tight bodice was almost suffocating, the dripping pearl chains too tangled within her hair. Long, thin fingers tugged at this various bit of fabric, and that random piece of jewelry as she made her way from the assembly hall.

Within the castle grounds was a small museum of sorts, one that was typically better guarded than the Queen’s wing of the castle. For the longest time, she’d avoided it like the plague, afraid of what she might find there – it was the collection of the Sais, the heroes of the Age of Turmoil, and she already knew what ghosts might haunt those halls.

But this is where Vemerik had requested she meet him once she was finished, and she had little ability to refuse.

Sighing softly, eyes closing and head tilting downward slightly, one hand reached for the door handle while the other rested against her chest. The wooden door opened silently, and bright magical light flooded into the hallway, obscuring her form as she entered the museum.

Once she was a few steps inside, her eyes slowly opened and she lifted her head to look about the room.

An old, broken sword was cleaned and mounted on a plaque, hanging beside what appeared to be an old suit of armour emblemized with the sigils of Karana’s knights. A dull blue cloak hung over the suit, moving slightly as the breeze that surrounded her brushed over it.

On another stand, she saw an elegant suit of elven armour, pierced through the chest plate and still covered with bits of gore. It was laid out as if set for a funeral, hands upon its stomach, holding a broken lance that also held remnants of gore upon its slick surface.

She turned her head away, her eyes falling upon a withered crook sat next to a cooking pot and large stein, a small bear that had been mounted and stuffed in beside them. She blinked, surprised by how alive the bear seemed despite knowing it was dead, and for a moment, she felt as if she were staring at another Fury’s life.

Turning again, she saw a beautiful gown upon a headless mannequin, its hands reaching down before its body to hold a small jeweled circlet that rested upon the pommel of a great hammer.

“So it is done then,” a voice asked, causing her to turn and look at the final displays.

Her eyes widened, taking in what appeared to be two blades with lightening coursing down them, held by another mannequin clad in dull green chain armour. Another mannequin was clad in almost familiar brown leathers, holding a quiver full of arrows in one hand, the other deceptively empty. She knew its stance all too well, and paled as her eyes turned towards Vemerik.

“Yes,” she whispered before clearing her throat and raising her voice, “yes, it is done.”

The taller half elven man stepped forward, his hands behind his back as if holding onto something, but it was obscured by his uniform clad form. His large brown eyes looked down at her, slightly narrowed but without any malice.

“Why?”

Blinking, she looked up at him, stunned by the question even though it had been asked a hundred times in the assemblage. She slowly shook her head and sighed, sinking down to the floor as she lowered her head, hand still resting on her chest while the other steady her.

“You of all people should know why, Vem,” she said quietly. “The fiasco with Kacer and Arata has drawn too much attention, attention that extends beyond Qeynos and its politics. It is too dangerous for the Order to remain together, and so I’ve sent them to ground…those still alive, anyway…”

Her voice trailed off, eyes closing at the thought of the dead and missing elves and humans, entirely unsure if they were all dead, taken or hiding. Threats had surfaced in the form of unidentifiable letters, though she suspected some were from the Bloodsabers while others had to be from Freeport.

“What has become of Kacer, Avaria?” he asked slowly, looking down into the mass of fiery red curls that were pinned back.

Sighing, she softly replied, “I’m sure you already know, but he’s left. Since the incident, we’ve just been drifting further and further, and finally he took flight from it.”

“As long as that isn’t they why,” the half elf replied, studying her. “You look tired and uncomfortable, Fury.”

Her only response was to nod, sighing as she opened her eyes again and looked up at him. Vemerik was an enigma to her – the loyal leader of the Queen’s network of spies, always putting on a masque of flamboyant bard tricks to hide what he really was doing, knowing anything and everything that happened within and without the walls of Qeynos. He clearly played favourites, and clearly made use of those who had uses, but never did so in a way that would harm them. Sometimes she wondered how many of these hidden meetings he held each day, but knew she didn’t want the answer to that.

“I am tired, Vem. All of this,” she paused, “this pageantry, this game, it’s become more of a burden as time passes. I thought that it would let me do good, but it seems to always become tangled up in the red strings of politics.”

The darker man nodded, carefully kneeling in front of her, still hiding whatever it was behind his back. He gave her a small smile, and reached on hand out to rest on her shoulder as he spoke.

“Not all nobility remain in this mess, Avaria. In fact, one very famous noble rarely if ever saw the walls of a meeting hall here in Qeynos,” he quietly explained. “This Sai had little use of title and pageantry, and so he vanished into the woods to carve out his own life, to protect and serve the people in ways nobility could not…”

She blinked at him, surprised by his revelation. Though familiar with the tales of “wayward nobility”, it had never occurred to her that she could at any time step away entirely from the life that she’d been thrust into so suddenly; a sense of duty that was deep within her soul had bound her to her new position so entirely, it clouded her judgment of life away from it. In her mind, because of the way books we written and nobles talked, turning away from it was unthinkable.

“But, I can’t…” she whispered, looking at the half elven man with shock.

Shaking his head, Vemerik continued, “The Phoenix did more for Qeynos by turning his back on his title than he could have from within. If he’d been caught up in the meetings of nobility like he should have been, Sai Marca would have died at the hands of Sin long before Ver Elendur’s betrayal.”

“But won’t they…” she began, silencing when Vemerik lifted his hand.

“It doesn’t matter what they think of it, many of the ancient nobility thought Stormryder a heretic, but in the end, the truth was seen and the Phoenix was recognized for the good he did,” the half elf finished, watching her closely.

Pale before, at the mention of that name, she went even paler – she didn’t know how Vemerik had learned of anything, and was even more shocked that he had revealed his hand to her. No book, no historian, none of them ever gave the Phoenix a name, but Vemerik just had and the name made sense.

Slowly, he pulled a silver recurve bow out from behind his back. The string was missing, but despite its age, she could make out intricate runes of power on its smooth surface. With his free hand, Vemerik took each of her own hands and placed the bow in them, letting go of it only once he was sure she had a tight grip.

“That was supposedly the Phoenix’ bow, a bow that could call down the storms of nightmares,” he said slowly, standing, “I know you don’t know how to use it, and it doesn’t work without its string, but I think you need it more than this museum does.”

With that, he straightened his uniform, his flamboyant masque rising over his features as he strode out of the room, leaving her alone with the haunted remnants of the great Sais and the bow of a dead man. Her thin hands closed around it tightly, and pulled it to her chest as she listened to the sound of the coming storm.


The gowns hung in their places, the jewels were tucked away in their box upon the desk, all the books arranged properly upon their shelves. The fine cloaks were left as well, the only things missing were the dark leathers, a backpack, the weapons and what everyone thought was a restored Greater Lightstone.

Word had been left – she had gone, and would only return if there were great need; it spawned many an argument within the meeting halls, but after a few weeks, even whispered theories died out. With Vemerik’s advice, she was able to vanish completely into the wilds of Norrath, free to find herself once more.



The waterfall hid the doorway entirely, its mists clouding the cave entirely even after one stepped close to it. Further down the embankment of the lake, two opposing factions with very similar goals camped, watching the activities in the area with interest and pressing passers by to aid them in their cause.

In the perpetual dark of Nektulos Forest, a lone rider made their way up the shores. The hooves of the misty mustang thundered against the ground but were lost within the thundering of the falling water. Fearless, the horse pressed forward, its rider barely urging it towards the cave that lay ahead.

The rider was a high elven woman clad in dark black, purple and silver leathers, her dark cloak fluttering back behind her in the wind. Fiery ringlets were mostly tied back by dull strings of crystal and silver, but several fluttered in the wind as well, bouncing with the stride of the horse. A great silver bow was strung across her back, but a large scepter and orb were strapped to her hips, contradicting what she may be capable of.

Almost a month prior, the woman and her mount had encountered a band of vampires near the shores of Port Naythex. She’d been searching for the reclusive shadowed men, hunting them and studying them when the group had appeared from a cave nearby. The battle had been surprisingly short, ending with a burst of starry wrath from the heavens that burned the monsters to ashes.

Since then, the woman had been investigating the D’morte brood with great interest, having found they were quite different from the vampires she had read about in the books from the Age of Turmoil. From what she had gathered from the Qeynosians camped upon the bank, this brood was just as great of a threat as those in the past had been, only more so as their weaknesses were slightly different from the traditional Norrathian vampire.

Her search through the tomb near the site of the first attack had uncovered an ancient magical crest, and the metallic sigil almost seemed to beckon towards the lake. After taking the form of a Dark Elf to speak to the Freeport camp of hunters, she’d approached the Qeynosians for more information. Between the two, she learned that the largest crypt of D’morte vampires lay beyond the waterfall, and it was suspect that their masters made their lair there as well.

Once behind the veil of water, she could finally see the door down into the crypts. She carefully tied the misty mustang to the wood, but left enough slack for the horse to escape should something attack it; being quite attached to its mistress, the mare would wait patiently unless harmed.

In the first few tunnels, she found only grinnin, living plants and empty coffins behind cracked walls. It was as if there had been other missions that drove the vampires deeper into the cave, allowing the more native residents to take hold. Further back, she discovered wurms and larger living plants, but nothing that couldn’t be left to burn in the wake of Nature’s wrath.

As she neared the last tunnel, she felt the air go cold and immediately she strained her senses. Finding that her elven form was too weak to sense anything more than the change in the air and the sound of the waters, the woman slowly transformed into a dark faerie wreathed in absinthe-coloured flames. Her weaponry changed with her, taking on an almost dark ethereal tone.

Quietly, she fluttered down the tunnel, listening for the sounds of more attackers. The strange silence disturbed her, and she realized that she could not hear the sound of her own wings as she neared an odd doorway in the rocks. Frightened, she turned and found herself facing several of the more powerful D’morte broodlings.

The first turned into a wolf and pounced at her, causing her to cease fluttering her wings and drop to the ground. As the wolf flew over her head, the second vampire lashed out at her with his claws, and she rolled sideways to avoid his claws. Before she had time to rise up again, the third vampire attacked, severing part of her wing with his sword as she tried to move out from beneath him.

Useless without flight, the woman quickly transformed back into a high elf, still wreathed in the now deadly flames. She turned to face the fourth vampire, blocking his mace with the metallic handle of her orb – sparks erupted from the contact, blasting across her attackers.

Though considerably difficult, she was able to conjure forth a burst of starfire, pushing the attackers back momentarily. The wolf writhed, engulfed in flames, shifting back into its humanoid form before turning into ashes. The other three attackers were burned, but still pressed their attack upon the woman.

Claws raked their way down her left arm, and a hammer smash to her hand caused her to drop the orb. She stepped back quickly, calling forth a wild bloodflow to regenerate the injuries while deflecting a swipe from the sword. The hammer hit her side, causing her to spin slightly and nearly fall sideways, interrupting her second attempt to call forth the wrath of stars.

Pinned momentarily to the wall, she deflected another attack from the sword while ducking to avoid the hammer only to have her shoulder ripped open by the claws. Reflexively, she screamed out a chant, causing a whirlwind of ice shards to spin up around the clawed vampire.

The surprised being stumbled back, swatting at the thousands of tiny shards whipping over his body and slowing his movements, giving the woman enough room to slip around the other two and get away from the wall. She ran a few steps, turned slightly, and snared the man with the hammer before turning to run once more.

She made it down the tunnel, and into one of the larger areas, but upon rounding the next corner, she ran into the broad chest of an even larger vampire, halting immediately against the wall of dead flesh. Stunned, she stumbled backwards and looked up into the face of the D’morte as he reached down and wrapped his hand around her throat. A cruel smile spread over the vampire’s face as he lifted her up off the ground, her feet kicking as her thin hands tried to pull the dead fingers from her throat.

Before she could form any further thought, she felt a familiar pain as the fourth attacker rounded the corner and sliced his sword into her back, except this time it ended with an exploding pain. She felt herself dropped to the ground as the larger vampire hissed out in an odd language to the sword wielder, and feebly she cast a weak regrowth upon herself.

The larger vampire raised both hands, and pushed them through the air toward the other broodling, causing the smaller vampire to fly backward down the hall. The sword dropped into the water as the being flayed across the rock wall of the previous corner, followed by a large splash as his body joined it.

Darkness clouded over the woman’s vision as the vampire turned back to her, and she knew there was nothing she could do to stop him. She’d spent all of her energies staying alive and running, her injuries finally adding up and overpowering the weak regenerative energies. She couldn’t even feel it as the last vampire raked open her throat before turning back down the tunnel towards the strange door.

After less than a moment, her eyes began to close against her will, obscuring the figure rushing towards her. She felt herself lifted up by strong arms, pulled close to someone’s chest as they ran, and she felt warm again. Numb, she couldn’t feel the jostling of the run, the panicked grip of the hands, or hear the quiet mumblings of the man that carried her.

Her last thoughts were fanciful, as most are in death – she imagined that the arms that lifted her were that of Phenix, that in her death, he’d finally been given a way to come back to her. Her final thought was that he would carry her back home as he always had, and a small smile spread over her cold lips.

In her end, there was only the two of them, as they always had been.



She wasn't even supposed to be in Qeynos again for some time, but after a nasty run in with a group of gamblers that double crossed the court of Tears, some of her gear was beyond repair. There were a few things she could replace in Maj'dul for a fair price, however much of what she needed would either need to be imported for a hefty fee, or she would have to pick it up herself.

Night was falling by the time the Fury had gathered together the things she needed in Qeynos, picking up several other things she might have use for later, and shipped them off via the Norrathian Express. Twilight gave Qeynos an almost ethereal glow, and the woman decided to take a few minutes to walk around the pathways of North Qeynos, eyes moving between the stars and the glittering edifices of stone.

A man was walking passed the furniture proprioter's shop, dressed in a fine green and white tunic with a black pant becoming more and more popular amid the swashbuckling types of the city; two spectacular rapiers hung on either hip, glittering in the fading sunlight and faint lamplight. His hair was long, ragged in some respects, the longest portions of it being braided down his back. This dark brown hair covered his eyes, making it hard to see them in the fading light. He walked with an air of almost cockiness, confident in his stride yet somehow relaxed until he looked up at her.

He stopped as she passed, staring at her openly. She wasn't surprised, she hadn't bothered changing before coming to Qeynos, long fiery red tendrils still loose against her back, still clad in her Preceptor clothing - red leather pants with open strips down the side that were laced with black cord, a sleeveless red leather tunic with a low v-cut, also laced with black cord but still revealing and a pair of black leather bands around her upper arms...many men in Qeynos stared at so foriegn and revealing an outfit.

But something was different, and she slowly came to a halt a few feet away, turning to look back over her shoulder at the man. He was still staring, his hidden eyes watching her every move, though his features were expressionless as he lifted his head; his brown eyes locked with hers for a moment as he took a deep breath.

"Uh... hi..." he said, slowly.

The Preceptor-in-training blinked slightly, turning around to face him slowly. The man's lips moved again, but no sound came from them, as if he couldn't find his voice suddenly. She stared at him, pushing the hair from her eyes to see him better, to make sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her as it seemed to in the past.

Faintly, he whispered, "...thought I recog...."

Slowly, she took a few steps towards him, her head tilting from habit as she studied him. He gave her a nervous - and familiar - smirk, but merely stood still, holding the same breath he'd taken before speaking. She closed the space between them quickly, reaching out ever so slowly to touch his arm, as if she were convinced he was not actually there; the man flinched at the touch, still tryig to speak. When her fingers felt the soft fabrick of the tunic, she pulled her hand away in surprise.

"Av..." he managed quietly.

"...Phenix?" she breathed in reply.

Eyes wide with skepticism, she reached out agian for his shoulder, this time gripping it tightly as she whispered, "Please, for the love of Norrath, don't be a ghost..."

With a sad smile, he whispered, "Av... You're hurting me..."

She let go immediately, stepping backwards slightly as she spoke, "I'm sorry...I just..."

"I know.... " he said, his eyes clear with understanding.

She blinked at him in surprise, and he sighed deeply at her expressions. He'd just been wondering if he'd ever get to see her again, when he'd lifted his eyes to find a woman like her walking towards him, realising only as they passed that it was, in fact, Avaria. He couldn't believe it at first, even though he desperately wanted to - even now, it felt somewhat like a dream.

Whispering, he nodded, "Believe me... I know..."

Her expression was odd, almost guarded, as she was unsure of whether or not to start crying or embrace the man standing before her. For months, she'd dreamed about this very event, but slowly she'd lost faith in the idea that it would ever happen; she'd moved on, buried that side of herself deeply until after the fiasco surrouding the end of her relationship with Kacer had fallen apart. And now she was having to face it all again, unexpected, unprepaired as he slowly stepped forward while taking off his gloves.

"I uh..." he murmured, reaching up to touch her face, but stopping, afraid she might react differently now. "I remembered your smell, if you can believe that..."

She looked up at him, her eyes almost platinum in colour, their emotions swirling. Bits of guilt, a bit of sadness and something akin to relief danced in them as the two watched each other. She watched his hand move toward her then stop, and slowly she reached out for it with her own, fingertips barely touching to his. His eyes closed gently as he felt her skin brush and settle against his own, a sigh escaping from both of them.

With a faint smile, she replied, "I can..."

"...I remember this too..." he whispered, opening his eyes to look down at her.

For a moment, she could only blink and try to speak, but no words came from her mouth as she lost a bit of her composure, finally stammering, "I - I tried looking, I even went to Splitpaw - twice, but I..."

"...but you couldn't find me...." he said, finishing her sentence for her.

With a slight nod, and a frown, she explained, "Torleth told us you'd been there, but that you'd left...I didn't even know where to start from there..."

"Told you both," he said, adding, "you mean yourself and Fenuir, the Sai's son."

Cautiously, she asked, "You...you know Fenuir?"

For a moment, she thought that Fenuir had tricked her, knowing all along the answers they'd found in Splitpaw, merely leading her on an elaborate quest just so Phenix could gauge whether or not she'd be willing to take those sorts of risks again. She could only blink and try not to get angry when he nodded to her.

"I've been to Splitpaw since after you left," he replied, "...and you were right."

Her eyes widened, surprised by his answer. Her fingers were still touching his, but her freehand pushed the hair away from her face as she could only silently wonder why he hadn't come after her, if he had been to the gnolls' lair and knew she had been there, a twinge of pain flickering through her before the rest of his words registered.

Guarded again, she asked, "About?"

"I'm what was once Phenix, the Sai of old..." he answered with a frown.

Nodding slightly, with a puzzled expression, she whispered, "What - what made you believe...?"

Phenix turned his back to her, causing her to make a small sound as their fingertips moved apart.

"When I," he explained, "When I was in Splitpaw the first time...Torleth brought me back, from the brink of death, it seemed. And he didn't say it, but i could tell he... he had help..."

"You're," she paused slightly before whispering, "Father."


With a sigh, he replied, "Yeah... good ol' pop..."

He turned around to see her shiver, realising the idea might not be so comfortable for her. She looked up at him, her confused eyes platinum from emotion, and he found himself unable to look away from them again.

"I always wondered why I was captivated by your eyes, ya' know?" he breathed, a smirk coming to his lips.

Blushing slightly, she answered, "I...never thought about that, even after..."

She was having trouble focusing, the intense feeling Brodis had shared with her flickering through her mind, the few times Kacer mentioned some mad oracle speaking of a Phoenix, and more recently the few times she should have died but was saved at the last instant. Overlaying the images were words she and Brodis had spoken on the beaches of Nektulos, things that Phenix was never supposed to know.

Hesitantly, she asked, "Did he...tell you anything?"

"No... he was gone when I came to... and Torleth wouldn't tell me anything," Phenix replied, "Only that I was nearing the end of my search..."

Though she was sure she already knew the answer, she asked, "For?"

He remained silent, watching Captain Penley riding on horseback, waiting for her to pass before saying, "For who I was...and even now, that I know the truth...I don't feel any different..."

"You...you weren't supposed to," she explained, "Its not - its not what your Father wanted..."

"Brodis isn't my father, Avi," he said, shaking his head, "My father died a long time ago..."

"I know...but its the only association I could really give him after..." she halted mid-sentence, letting her words trail off.

He knew she was trying to hide something, instantly, despite their time apart. Tilting his head to look down into her eyes again, he repeated, "After...."

Biting her lower lip, she tried not to look up into his eyes, seeing that he actually had an expression of puzzlement on his face. He was curious, and she was treading dangerously into the things that Brodis hadn't wanted her to mention to him - she just wasn't sure if his concern was valid now that Phenix knew the truth.
"I...I'd have to show you," she said nervously.

"Well... I'd think you better," Phenix said, holding his hand out to her.

"You have to come with me to the sands then, I - I don't stay here anymore," she replied, unsure of whether or not he was aware of the isle of Ro.

"Ah," was his only reply.

She reached out and took his hand, shyly at first, but then she tightened her grip slightly. Holding Phenix' hand was still quite foriegn to her, though she had wanted to many times before he'd disappeared, but as their grip settled, it became more and more familiar to her, almost relaxing. She smirked slightly, looking up from their hands to find Phenix looking down the street towards the South, the Claymore and Irontoes visible in the shimmering torch lights.

"I have to check on my place... make sure the innkeepers haven't moved my things out," he said, half worried.

Her smirk widening, she casually answered, "They haven't."

He looked down at her, not understanding what she meant by that. It never occured to him that she might keep his apartment, keep the innkeepers from selling off his things to pay for lost rent or even worse. He'd really expected not to have anything left within the city, after all he had discovered on his way here.

"I still come take care of Fenuir - the dog - every few days," she explained, a mysterious smile touching her lips. "You'd be surprised some of the things I can have done in this city."

"The... dog?" he asked, blinking, "I have a dog?"

Blushing, she nodded, "Yes, I - I got him for you after you'd left...for a present. "I knew you had a wolf once..."

She turned, pulling his arm as she began walking down the road towards Irontoes East. At first he remained in place, giving her a stern look, before giving into her pull, still a little surprised by how strong she'd become while he was away. She was just like he remembered her, yet different enough to make him wonder about many things as they made their way down the lamp-lit streets...made their way back home.