A man's shout pierced the cool night, calling the caravan to halt. On his command the wagons rolled to a stop, ceasing the dull cacophony of squeaking wheels and creaking wood. Lys recognised the voice as belonging to the leader and master of the caravan convoy; Odema. He was the one in charge of leading Lys and the travellers safely through the wilderness, alongside his helpers; Calisca and Sparfel. While Lys had grown to respect Odema's gruff, plain-speaking, she liked his help much less. Calisca saw Lys' thin limbs and judged her to be weak and pathetic, like a sickly mutt, while Sparfel cared more for his nightly ale than any of the travellers he guided. Odema yelled again, calling for Sparfel. Lys felt the wagon sway as Sparfel dismounted from the drivers seat. Like the other travellers, Lys' curiosity' was piqued. In one smooth movement she unlatched the wagon's door and jumped onto the dirt road. The deepening night had the chill of early spring and the scent of pine sap and soil hung in the damp air. The Drywood trees towered over the lonely road and the shrouded moon shone no light. Lys looked up the path, seeing each of the five wagons dotted with the warm glow of a lantern. At the fore front was Odema, Calisca and Sparfel, the light of Odema's lantern falling over the trunk of an enormous fallen tree. Lys focused her mind but found their thoughts muffled by the distance. After a short time a decision was reached and they dispersed, returning to their wagons. Sparfel drew near, his soul growing clearer with each step. When he noticed Lys standing in the dark, silent and unmoving, he scowled.
"What are you staring at?" He hissed, brushing past her as he mounted the wagon and took the reins. Lys didn't reply but merely stared wordlessly as she studied his thoughts. He gritted his teeth.
"You gonna get back in or are you walking?" He snapped, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. Lys' lips curled and she inclined her head as a polite gesture before returning to the wagon. Suld, who had been picking at her claw-like nails with a small knife looked up.
"So?" She grunted.
Lys looked down at Suld, the hint of a crooked smile on her thin lips.
"So what?"
Suld scowled, the fur around her nose wrinkling as the wagon began to sway with renewed movement.
"Don't be cute. What was the hold up?"
"A fallen tree; too big to be moved without tools," Lys answered. "I believe we are to camp by a place just off the road, by the name of Cilant Lis."
Lys felt a stab of fear from the woman sitting opposite to her in the wagon.
"No good comes from those ruins," the woman muttered to her husband beside her. "If not the Glanfathan savages, it's the soulstorms." The man patted her hand reassuringly but his thoughts were as grim as his expression.
The convoy arrived in a small clearing just off the main road. The caravans were parked at the edges and a crackling bonfire was lit in the centre for the warmth and protection of the travellers, who outstretched their bedrolls within its glow. Cilant Lis was revealed to be ancient ruins, the form of which towered over their campsite. Though it had initially been shrouded by the thick night, the fire's glow now cast a dancing warmth over the grand construction. An open arch was carved into the hillside leading into the inky blackness of a cavern. The outside was intricately detailed with ornate stone murals, weathered by the elements and splotched by moss. Lys' eyes came to rest on the green and semi-translucent giant gems that jutted from the soil at the base of the ruins. These were natural pillars of adra, a common gemstone of Eora that ran deep down underground like veins of the earth. Despite its abundance adra was strikingly beautiful, like opaline glass of emerald hue. The characteristic Lys found most fascinating was the gem's ability to grow, albeit slowly and only in nature. Scholars had come to consider it closer to coral than rock. The adra pillars before Lys were grand, but not the largest she'd seen. What set these one apart was the copper metal wire that had been lovingly set into the stone in beautiful patterns. She stood for some time, gazing at the adra in silent contemplation, admiring how the light seemed to flicker inside the stone itself. However, Odema's booming voice soon usurped her attention.
"Listen up," he commanded and a hush fell over the campsite. "Everyone stays close to the wagons. Stay out of the woods and beasts take you if you go any closer to the ruins. These parts are crawling with hut-dwelling types; Glanfathans, and they'd be happy to stick an axe into you for trespassing over their sacred blazing rocks. Tonight everyone stays put and, Gods willing, we'll wake at first light." He paused, scratching his bushy red moustache. He deliberated on saying more, on mentioning another danger, but after a moment he merely waved his hand, dismissing the travellers to their bedrolls. Unknown to him Lys' power revealed to her what he'd hesitated to say and it was a word she recognised; soulstorm.