The Truest Face
I pause at the edge of the trees, take in the smell of the mire. Dust shuffles across the fields as the wind whistles through the moor. I slowly walk into the Harlequin Forest, and feel the prickle of mist against my face. They know I am here, I can feel their magic, all of it concentrated on keeping me away. I grin to myself. They will not keep me away from her. Not after 15 years.
I walk seven miles alone, as the trees and the mist get thicker. I see the milestones along the path, there for those who know to look for them. I see the trees too, and this worries me. They are twisted and bleeding sap, their magic depleting. Someone has drained the power, most likely the Blood Clan themselves. I am devoid of faith in their power, knowing they will not ask the Divine Clan to cleanse the wood. And yet the mist is so thick, meant to confuse and deter me. I push onwards, over thick roots of trees whose pulp is rotten and tangled.
As the ground slopes down, I know I'm getting closer to the lake, the source of their power. It begins to rain, pouring down on me. Nothing here is the same, and the damp smell of mud is burning in my eyes. And then, there before me, stands Ashlar, clad all in blood red robes, holding her ceremonial sword.
"Mikael, you will go no further," she says angrily.
I smirk. I will go further. I deserve this. I was banished from the place of my birth and banished from this place. I have woken from the miasma, and passed swiftly through the moor. There is no forgiveness in my eyes for any of them, but one.
"Dispel the mist for now. Melinda is the reason why I've come."