It's Valentines day, which means it's time for an earlier than usual update and for Valentines Week pt. 2!

Or, rather, what happened a year on from the Valentines week stories last year (they're chapters 33-40 if you haven't read them). As a follow on from these stories, this one features the same couples and the same higher end of the T-rating writing. It's also longer than the last few stories at about 6000 words.

Enjoy!


Everyone has their own Steorra's day tale.


Tell Me a Story

Deep in the forest north of Atlasdam, a gust of wind rushed gently through the leaves, bringing with it a restless, rustling sound that seemed almost to contain all the secrets of the world. Some of the weaker leaves were knocked free from their branches, left to fall carelessly into the outstretched hand of the woman resting in the hammocked crook of the lower limbs of the greatest tree. Beneath her, a man was sat with his back to the tree bark, absorbed wholly in his tome as he read about the legends of Steorra's day once again.

Strange to think that, nearly a year ago, the pair had been sat with their friends in the grand Azelhart manse, celebrating both Steorra's day and the continent being saved from Galdera and Lyblac. Stranger to think that they hadn't really seen any of their travelling friends since.

Sure, on occasion, Tressa and Therion would pass through looking for treasures; once Alfyn had swung by to heal a sudden pestilence that had broken out in Wispermill, Ophilia close by his side as she learnt all she could about apothecarial magic; Olberic and Erhardt had made the trip up from the Highlands once to pay them a visit, to tell them how they had settled down together in Cobbleston yet still wandered to wherever their swords were needed; and H'aanit had popped her head in once or twice on her way back to the Woodlands after yet another successful hunt, Linde frolicking at Alaic's feet at least as much as she did at H'aanit's. However, at no point did any of their friends stay for longer than a quick chat.

None but Kit.

Although no longer in search of his father, Kit was still a keen traveller, searching for his next great adventure as he travelled the continent and beyond. And he was always sure to stop in Noblecourt periodically to tell Cyrus and Primrose of his latest adventure, to show them his newest treasure and stay the night before he headed off again the next morning, back into the great big world outside of the Flatlands.

Primrose would be lying if she said she didn't miss the adventure and her travelling friends.

Yet there was so much she truly didn't miss. The deaths and the heartbreak, the pervading scent of musk and blood that seemed to cling to them every which way they travelled, the fear for their lives when they came across a God, a foe truly too great a challenge for them to face.

And here they were, still alive and travelling their separate ways. While Primrose couldn't exactly say she didn't expect this to happen, she had at least thought they'd keep in better contact than simply exchanging letters. Not that she could spare much time to travel now that she was leading house Azelhart and assisting in the rebuilding of Noblecourt's once proud name. Not that Cyrus could leave his post as lead researcher at the Atlasdam academy for much longer than to pay a call to Primrose weekly.

Only last year had the pair began to tentatively dip their toes into a relationship, a chaste and most noble courting as they rationalised to themselves that the emotion they felt to one another was true love. And, yes, it most certainly was love, a most pure and innocent love that left their hearts open to one another, their trust in one another far greater than it was in anyone else, yet it was not the passionate, all consuming love that they had read about in the books. It was simple and quite profound, it still brought dizzying butterflies to their stomach when they thought about one another, yet it contained no lust, no drive for intimacy that the others seemed to have.

And after all she had been through in her life, Primrose was rather grateful for that; and as a man who had often thought himself broken for never feeling that same passionate drive that most men seemed to have, Cyrus was rather relieved to discover that he was still capable of falling in love and having one love him in return.

Not that either of them had any idea what they should do together for their first Steorra's day.

So they'd settled for a day of rest in the forest, away from the struggles of man – or rather the flagrant, sickening displays of love by man – close to one another yet still independent as Cyrus read and Primrose rested, listening only to sounds of the wind, the calls of the wildlife, the distant crashing a waterfall that fed into the gentle bubbling stream.

Quite frankly, this was exactly what she needed.

Still, there was one more thing she wanted to hear, one voice that always rose above the rest and told her the most interesting tales.

"Tell me a story."

"What would you like to hear?" Cyrus asked in response, having heard her request on more than one occasion now, and always more than happy to oblige. "Perhaps a legend of the holiday would be most appropriate?"

"Hm." Primrose hummed in agreement, settling herself more comfortably into her branch. What she truly wanted to hear was what he thought the others were doing this holiday, where he thought they were, whether he thought they were thinking about them too.

Beneath her, Cyrus closed his tome and stared out into the forest, as though he was searching for the words to tell his tale.

"You're not reading the legend from the book?" Primrose asked in confusion, watching as the sun left trailing patterns of leaves across his cloak, lighting him like a spotlight as he began his story.

"I was thinking, perhaps a more modern take on the legend would be more appropriate." He leant back his head and smiled up at her. "I don't suppose you've heard the tale of the Four Lovers?"

"No." Primrose shook her head, shuffling slightly as she watched Cyrus begin his tale.

"According to the legend, Steorra blessed four couples on the first of Her holy days. The first was a pair who had long been in love with one another yet knew not how to communicate it and thus tried desperately to hide their feelings and eventually fought to their almost deaths before going their separate ways. It is said, thanks to Steorra's blessing, the couple eventually found their way back to one another, offered each other their forgiveness and true feelings and fell deep into a loving and supporting relationship."

Deep in the Highlands, the winds that were so gentle in the Flatlands forests were tearing through the mountains as though they were late for an important meeting or battle between themselves that would decide the very fate of the universe itself. Screaming and howling, the winds tore through the mountain towns with such ferocity that all who were sane had locked their doors and windows, resigning themselves to a day inside with their family, friends and loved ones.

The Twin Blades of Hornburg had never exactly been that sane.

Their swords at their sides, the pair cut a path through the monsters and the winds, calling to one another in reassurance when they slipped on a stone knocked loose by the wind and their hands parted, their cloaks buffering in the wind. Ahead, they could see the remnants of the old banners – torn not just in the war but by rocks and stones that had been knocked clear of the surrounding mountains by the constant gales – the broken foundations of the homes of the people they had once protected.

Most months, the pair headed to these deserted grounds of their former Kingdom to clear away the rubble and offer their respects to their former brothers in arms. Today, however, they journeyed deeper into Hornburg in search of something else.

"Do you think it still stands?" Olberic asked, picking his way over the broken foundations of what had once been his favourite tavern, littered glass shards telling a heartbreaking tale of the lost wines and ales.

"Aye." Erhardt nodded, his hand gripping Olberic's tight as memories of the coup – what he now thought of as his greatest mistake – came rushing back all too quickly. "Werner and his men gave strict orders to attack only those on the battlefield, I see no reason why they would have struck there. Save damage from natural causes, I see no reason why it should not still stand."

With memories of years long, long past haunting their every steps like vengeful ghosts, both knights were quiet as they travelled deeper into the heart of former Hornburg, their hearts heavy as they saw more and more houses still standing, covered only in a layer of thick, dusty pebble strewn sand. Here, nestled in a valley and protected by the mountains on all sides, the wind died down into silence. Every loose pebble skidding down the tiles of a nearby roof echoed for seemingly miles; their slow, measured footsteps drowned out only by the loud beating of their hearts in their ears as they saw their old training grounds.

The barracks.

Untouched by even thieves, it was as though time itself had deserted the Hornburg barracks. Some of the windows were broken, the thatched roof was certainly worse for wear and there was a definite lingering stench of rust heavy in the air from the weapons, yet it was still standing, exactly as they remembered it to be all those years ago.

And suddenly old, long forgotten memories returned. The laughter that echoed most nights when all the warriors returned their weapons and took off to their bunks next door, the calls to war that had sung through these halls on that fateful day…

Olberic trailed his fingers across the dusty surfaces, his thoughts lost to the past, remembering his friends long lost to the horrors of war.

"Olberic."

Erhardt's voice snapped him back to reality as he watched his beloved pull a sealed cask of Hornburgian white from a cupboard.

"How did you-?" Olberic asked in surprise, silenced immediately by Erhardt taking his hand with such a childish smile as they headed through to the bunks.

When the winds were silent in the mountains as they were now, Olberic remembered all the dirty little things he and Erhardt had done to one another in these bunks. Young, drunk and foolish, they'd not known how to confess, how to speak to one another openly as they did now. And while one could argue they still had a long way to go in the communication department, that day they didn't need to speak. That day they drank and laughed, they reminisced with embarrassed cheeks… And they found themselves in one another's arms once again, words and laughter all forgotten as they moaned and gasped, heedless of the wind beginning to howl through the broken windows once again.

"The second pair of lovers," Cyrus continued his tale, his head resting gently against the bark of the tree as he closed his eyes, letting the sun soak deep into his skin. "Were an oblivious young gentleman and a pinning lady, so utterly in love with the man that she could not confess her true feelings lest she lose him forever. When a near death experience almost tore the lady from the man forever, his eyes were opened and his feelings revealed. After that day, he dared not to let her stray far from his protecting hand."

"H'AANIT!" Alaic shouted at the top of his lungs as the huntress disappeared from his line of sight, sent flying by the griffon she had been tasked with hunting. Why she'd felt the need to hunt her quarry today of all days, Alaic did not know. Why he'd followed after her into the Cliffland's dense forests as she followed its trail, he couldn't rationalise. Still, here he was, one man with a pair of tiny daggers and mediocre dark magic fighting besides a fierce snow leopard as they tried to save their lady from the beast.

The griffon roared, flapping its mighty wings as it tried to fly into the air, growling as it remembered that H'aanit had pierced its feathers many times for the express purpose of not letting it fly off. In desperation, Alaic cast a spell of pure darkness, binding the beast's beak closed and anchoring its tail to the ground. With a quick gesture, Alaic ordered Linde to pounce and sink her claws into its hamstrings.

Before she could even launch herself from her spot, Linde watched beside the man as the griffon had the crown of its head pierced by an arrow, breaking its beak free of its dark bindings as it let out a mighty, painful scream. With only a second of hesitation, Alaic threw his dagger at the beast's exposed throat, only mildly horrified as it struck the artery and poured blood over him as he recovered his weapon.

Behind him, Linde rushed off into the trees to find her mistress and the mysterious source of the arrow that had felled the beast.

It was strange how used to this Alaic had become over the last year. Since the day the pair had returned to Stillsnow – hand in hand – Susanna had insisted that he assist the huntress on her missions. While he had felt he would only be a burden on H'aanit to start with – and he had – the two soon found themselves fighting in sync, a deadly duo who had been sent to remove all manner of beasts from the top of the food chain many a time now.

But that didn't stop him from worrying about H'aanit every battle. Nor did it stop him from wishing that, just once, they had a day when they could be together as a normal couple, not a pair of hunters.

Soaked to the bone in the griffon's blood, Alaic sighed and started his heavy trudge into the trees after Linde and his lost huntress.

In truth, he was not nearly as frustrated by all this hunting as he appeared on the surface – in fact he rather enjoyed it, the thrill of the battle, the satisfaction of vanquishing a foe he had thought impossible to best. However, no matter how much one enjoys something, one still enjoys days off, a day to oneself with their lover by their side as they relax into one another's embrace. What he wouldn't give to simply sit before a fire, H'aanit's head resting softly against his chest as he braided her hair for her once again, Linde purring quietly by their feet as H'aanit told tales of her travels with the others…

"H'aanit?" He called into the forest, pushing back branches as he followed the track of disturbed leaves and broken twigs. The griffon had certainly been a powerful beast to have sent her flying so far back. And while his fast pulse certainly gave the impression that he was fearful of finding her dead against a tree, the fact that she had shot the beast certainly lead him to believe she was still alive.

So he followed the trail until he arrived at the nearby river, unsurprised to find Linde chasing fish in the current as H'aanit watched with a soft smile. "Mine apologies for worrying thee."

"At least you gave me a sign that you were still alive this time." Alaic sighed, a smile hidden behind the blood on his face as he presented a collection of bloodied griffon pinions to her. "Proof of your victory and perhaps a gift to your apothecary friend."

"Hmm." H'aanit took the feathers by their bloodless tips, looking them over in curiosity before she wrapped them in cloth and placed them near her weapons. "I doe not knowen if griffon feathers haveth medicinal qualities."

"It'll be nice to see Alfyn again," Alaic dropped his daggers next to H'aanit's weapons, staring into the other side of the river bank besides her, wondering once again what thoughts were running around her head. Upstream, Linde was paddling under a waterfall, greatly enjoying the sensation of water rushing over her fur. "It's been a while since we last stopped by Clearbrook."

"Indeed." H'aanit sighed slightly. "I supposen today he and Ophilia will ben celebrating together."

"Right, Steorra's day." Alaic nodded, rubbing his hand through his bloody hair and immediately looking down at his caked hand in disgust.

"I wishened..." Quietly, H'aanit laughed to herself. "I wishened to celebraten with thee today."

"There's still time." Alaic smiled, understanding the sadness behind her eyes now. Though fantastic at many things, H'aanit still struggled with expressing herself and her emotions.

This past year, Alaic had come to discover how H'aanit expressed herself through her actions – such as baking for him or pulling him in for a kiss after a particularly hard fought, terrifying battle – and had started to express himself in a similar manner, one that he hoped would put her at ease. It was clear she had not had much interaction with people outside of the Woodlands, let alone men in general, and while she understood the language, the nuances of human interaction and traditions such as Steorra's day still flew a little far over her head. A former assassin himself, Alaic was not necessarily the picture of a normal, functional human, but he was able to navigate conversations with troublesome clients for H'aanit when necessary.

"Nay," H'aanit shook her head, looking at her partner with such sadness as she took his hand. "I had wanted… To given thee a moste peaceful, restful day as a gift. Then I hearden tale of the griffon and…"

"H'aanit." Alaic couldn't stop his smile, his grin as he realised she had at least remembered the day and had the intention to celebrate it. "There is still plenty of time for us to rest celebrate the day."

"And honouren Steorra's tradition?"

"While the tradition itself has been mostly bastardised over the years since the age of the Gods, I believe that most of the honouring of traditions comes later into the night."

"Aye?" H'aanit raised a knowing eyebrow, a blush creeping onto her cheeks as Alaic leant in for a kiss, only to be ducked away from. "Forgiven me, mine love, but thou art covered in blood."

It was as though H'aanit mentioning the blood reminded him of how coated in it he was, weighing him back down to mulchy forest floor like an anchor. Looking from his bloodied hands to the river, Alaic chuckled. "I suppose I should clean off."

"Woulde-" H'aanit cleared her throat as she watched Alaic remove his coat and shirt, a blush incredibly bright on her cheeks as she asked, "Woulde thou minden terribly… If I joined thee?"

Alaic couldn't stop the blush creeping to his bloodied cheeks any more than H'aanit could as he offered her his hand. "Not at all, love."

There had been a time in his life, not all that long ago in the grand scheme of time, that Alaic had become convinced that he was unlovable. From the copious amount of blood that decorated his hands from his years as an assassin to the all the more obvious and permanent reminder of that time that adorned his shoulder blade to this very day, Alaic had found himself becoming more and more certain that none would want to walk the world with him by their side. Then H'aanit had appeared before him in Stillsnow, so eager to see Susanna that she bested him in combat and tore open his silenced lips. Soon he found that all that came tumbling from them was embarrassing words as he fell deeper and deeper in love with the huntress who had appeared before him, a huntress who's friend finally took a weight off his mind and removed the horrible man that had haunted his every step all these years.

A woman who had saved his life and made him promise that he would never put himself in danger again as she'd cried.

Yes, it had been over a year since they fought Galdera, a year since they had come to discover their feelings for one another, yet everyday it seemed as though something new happened to remind them once again why they love the person by their side. And the leopard at their feet.

"The third couple were total opposites to one another," Cyrus continued, lost to his stories as Primrose watched him from on high. "A benevolent King known for his kindness to all, his charity in giving back to the common folk and a thieving harlot, known for killing her clients and stealing to survive. Steorra saw something between the two of them, a magnetism that drew them to one another, allowed them to fall in love all at once and oh so quickly as they realised they weren't so opposite after all."

"You fool!" Therion shouted at her as he carried Tressa out the seaside cave, watching as she blasted another shot of wind behind them into the cave opening, deterring the monsters that had tried to follow them.

"I'm fine, Therion!" Tressa shouted back at him, squirming in his grip as she tried to free herself and stand. Of course, she wasn't actually fine, a Birdian had shot her square in the knee and she wasn't entirely sure if she could stand unaided. But she sure as hell wasn't going to let him carry her everywhere. "Put me down."

"You really think you can stand on your own?" Therion asked her in a condescending tone, though he was certainly far more worried about her than he appeared.

"Well, I won't know if you don't put me down." Tressa said petulantly, crossing her arms in anger as he finally sighed and eased her to the floor. "Thank you."

Almost immediately, Tressa fell to her knees, her face contorted in agony as she held back her scream.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Therion sighed, helping her back to her feet and supporting her as she tried to stand. "Do you want me to carry you again?"

"Yes please." With a tiny, pain-filled voice, Tressa allowed herself to be carried by Therion yet again.

This wasn't how she'd expected her day to go. Last Steorra's day, the pair of them had sat not much further up the Moonstruck coast than they were stood now, resting together as they watched the sunset and prepared themselves for meeting their friends in Noblecourt in a few days time. Today, they'd both wanted to do something different, the scent of treasure and adventure leading them deep into the cave and face to face with a Leviathan and its army of Birdians.

And of course she'd jumped in front of an arrow for him, completely heedless of the danger with only the certainty in her mind that if she did not take this attack Therion would. And she didn't want him to be hurt, never again.

This last year, he'd started to tell her more and more tales from his past, stories of what had occurred when he'd travelled besides his old partner, Darius. Stories of the abuse he'd endured from the man he'd loved before her, before he'd been thrown clean off a cliff for disappointing him.

And with every story, Tressa learnt about another one of his many scars, both those that covered his body and his psyche. With every story, Tressa found herself promising him – through tears – that she would never hurt him, that she would never put him in danger. She would stand by his side as long as he would have her, his beacon of sunshine to illuminate his future and force those old days even further into the darkness of his path.

"Wait." Tressa said as Therion carried her passed the spot they'd sat last year, the spot in which they'd finally said those words they both knew yet had alluded them all those months they'd fallen slowly into their emotions and one another's arms. From this spot, they could see far, far out into the open sea, watching as the sun setting painted the waves a peach and illuminated Orsterra for a final few hours, stretching out the mountain's reflections into the waves. "Let's stop."

Therion was silent as he watched the light in the waves, as he realised where they stood and when they had last stopped here together. "Alright. This seems as good a spot as any to set up for the night."

Slowly and gently, he lowered Tressa to the sand, making sure she was comfortable before he left her alone in search of driftwood for their fire. So often had the two of them stopped on the road now that Tressa no longer feared the dark nor the ghost stories that Therion told her in an attempt to frighten her, for she knew he was never far from her. She knew that, no matter how much she wanted to protect him, he wanted to protect her with the same ferocity.

It was actually rather impressive how much the couple had grown this past year, with each other every step of the way as they grew to even more impressive people. They might not see their friends as much anymore, but whenever they did they were met with remarks of surprise as they learnt that the couple as still strong, still continuing to make each other stronger.

Tressa herself had to admit it was rather strange, she was still so young and innocent after all. Yet here she was, walking the world with a hardened thief who had faced far more hardship in his life than she hoped she ever would. But... she couldn't imagine a world without him by her side, a world where he was not the person that she loved and cared for the most.

There were tears in her eyes when Therion returned with the driftwood pile, dropping it carelessly on the floor and lighting it with a single incantation of wildfire.

"Tressa?" Kneeling besides her, Therion watched her silently cry in complete confusion. "Are you in that much pain?"

"No, I." Blubbering, Tressa sobbed into her hands. "I love you!"

"I know?" Therion couldn't help but laugh as he pulled a ream of bandages from his bag. "I love you too, sunshine. What's with the shouting?"

"I just…" Tressa gently pulled her legging up and over her knee, shocked by how much it had already swollen, how badly it was already bruised. "We're so different."

"I know." Therion sucked the air through his teeth as he saw Tressa's knee. "Let me know if this hurts."

"Do you ever worry-" Tressa yelped as Therion poured alcohol into her wound to clean it, nodding silently as she bit her lip as she begged him to continue. It'll only hurt worse if it's not treated. She reminded herself as she continued. "Do you ever worry that we're too different?"

"No." Therion replied simply, with such certainty that it caught her off guard as he started to wrap the bandage around her knee, careful not to trap any sand in the folds.

"No?"

"No." He repeated, settling in besides her as they watched the waves go out together.

"Why not?" Why this question had come to her now, of all days, Tressa could not explain. But she… She had to know.

"How do I put this…?" Therion wondered aloud, pulling Tressa in to rest her head on his shoulder as he thought. "I have never met anyone who would protect me as much as you would, sunshine. And sometimes you take it to extremes, most of the time I don't need your protection at all. But… Just the fact that you would protect me, put your life before mine… I care for you deeply, Tressa."

"I see." Tressa smiled as she sniffed, crying for an entirely different reason now as Therion took her hat and placed it on his own head, allowing the gentle sea breeze to blow through her short locks.

"There's more, of course." Therion continued, his eyes lost to the waves. After all this time, she still rarely heard him speak so much, so emotionally, so she could only sit silently and listen before he got too embarrassed to carry on. "You know how to make me laugh, what stories to tell to truly fool me, you continue to wear that necklace I got you when we travelled with the others and you still carry that little stone you found the day you asked me out because you believe it brings good luck. You've listened to the worst of my stories and yet you continue to walk besides me as my partner, my personal ray of sunshine to lighten the darkest days."

"Therion..." Turning as carefully as she could on her injured knee, Tressa couldn't say she was surprised to find he couldn't meet her eye, that he was blushing perhaps brighter now than she'd ever seen him blush before. So she smiled, chuckled under her breath and leant further into his shoulder as the sky started to turn dark. "Thank you."

"And the fourth couple," leaning to the side, Cyrus didn't even open his eyes as Primrose finally jumped down from her place in the branches, settling onto the ground next to him silently as he opened his cloak for her to nestle in. "They were friends for a long time before Steorra met them. They were close, very very close, everyone around them saw how perfect they were together, everyone but the pair themselves. Until one day Steorra herself intervened."

The air in Clearbrook was still and strangely humid for a late winter night. There were no bugs in the air and the snakes were still deep in hibernation, so the only sounds that graced the town that night were those of the natives, celebrating Steorra's day together as the night drew onwards.

Zeph was off in Atlasdam that week, spending the holiday with his beloved Mercedes as she continued her work at the library. To the north of the continent, Eliza and Liana had spent the day together in silent restfulness, a day for them to shirk their duties and simply be with other another.

Here in Clearbrook, Alfyn had gone about his daily duties with Ophilia by his side. With their smiles and laughter greeting everyone at their doors, it was almost as though the sick were healed before they even had to apply a salve. It really was rather impressive to see two people completely in sync as they healed and drifted through the streets. It was rather impressive to see people working on Steorra's day.

Not that the two didn't intend to celebrate – Steorra's day was also their anniversary after all – but they both knew their day wouldn't start until the moon was high in the sky and the streets were long deserted. So they made their way to the bridge late that night, bundled together in a blanket as they watched the reflection of the moon ripple gently in the waves.

"Y'know," Alfyn rested his chin on Ophilia's head as he stared at the moon's reflection. "I used to tell Ma that I could pick the moon up with my hand when I was young."

"Really?" Ophilia chuckled, imaging a young Alfyn excitedly telling his mother just that.

"Yeah." He laughed to himself. "I used to grab a handful of water from the river, hold it under the moon's reflection and show Ma."

"How did she react?"

"She'd chuckle and ruffle my hair, tell me how clever I was."

It was almost imperceptible, but Ophilia felt his shoulders stiffen behind her. "I know how much you must miss her."

"I just wish..." Alfyn sighed as he rested his cheek against her head. "I wish she could've met you."

"Me?!" Ophilia exclaimed in surprise, turning in his arms to look up at his face.

"Is there somethin' wrong with that?" Alfyn asked her, grinning from ear to ear. "Who wouldn't want to introduce their Ma to their gorgeous girlfriend?"

"Alf, you're making me blush." Ophilia laughed in embarrassment as she buried her face into his chest. Even after all their time together this past year, compliments still managed to catch her off guard. Though they rather caught him off guard too, and that surprised little gasp he made when he realised she was completely sincere… "Besides, I think she would be rather more impressed with how charming her son grew up to be. For if he's dating a 'gorgeous woman' he must be something rather special himself."

There it was, that surprised little gasp as he squeezed her tight and they both let out embarrassed little laughs. How on earth had they gotten so lucky? To find one's perfect match on this continent, to have the privilege of travelling around the world with them and make history with them… They both knew they'd struck gold, that they had something no amount of wealth could buy.

"Hey, Lia?"

"Yes, Alf?"

"Happy anniversary."

Snuggling closer to his chest, Ophilia felt her grin might well split her face in two. "Happy anniversary, Alfyn."

"I wonder," Primrose muttered aloud as Cyrus opened his eyes to watch the sunlight and leaves make merry patterns across Primrose's exposed skin. "Did Steorra Herself ever find love?"

"I do not know." Cyrus shook his head, pulling out his tome of legends once again. "There's certainly no tale of Her ever finding a lover in here."

"Some say the Gods still walk the land." Primrose mumbled, made sleepy by the story and the cosiness of Cyrus' cloak. Seriously, how did he walk around in this all day without wanting to fall asleep? "That They're waiting for a worthy challenger to appear before them in their shrines."

"Merely a folk law, my love." Cyrus chuckled slightly as she rested her head against the bark of the tree. "I have visited Alephan's Shrine on more than one occasion and have never met the Scholar King."

"I visited Sealticge's shrine in the Sunlands once too, can't say I met her there when I did."

"Some legends are just legends." Cyrus said as he closed his eyes besides Primrose, lulled at last to sleep by the calling of the wind through the leaves.

"Thou art brave, Child, to challenge Me on this day."

"I know." Kit smiled up at the figure of the Goddess before him. He'd travelled around the continent many times this year, all in search of this shrine in particular. The shrine of the Starseer. "However, I didn't want you to be lonely."

"Lonely?" The commanding voice asked in curiosity, Her confusion echoing through every corridor of the cave.

"No one likes to spend today alone. I suspect You like to spend it alone the least of all of us." From his bag, Kit pulled a simple bound tome. On its cover was the symbol before him, the mark of the Starseer Herself. "Would You like to hear what legends the people tell about You?"

"Thou would spend today with Me?" Steorra appeared before him, her eyes bound and body as light as the air itself.

"If you'd like me to."

Emotions seemed not to register on Her calm face, but Kit could feel it, Her smile. "Tell me the tales, Child. The tales they tell of My day."