Blood on the sand. A blemish on perfection. A stain of crimson. Would it ever wash away? No one would be able to fathom just what this meant for their life. Until it was too late. All gathered round, tribes, guilds, factions, and even a few citizens of Altaria. Mortal enemies called truces, scholars dropped their books, and day laborers were free to sate their curiosity for just this one day. Everyone wanted to know about this one drop of blood.

Who would even dare to end the life of another, on this holy ground? The Ivory Shores were strictly off limits to all but the most devout followers. Most people wouldn't even think to get close to it, and some even avoided it like the plague. They feared holy retribution, and rightly so.

The Acolytes of the Sentinel were known for their pious ways and fierce persecution of nonbelievers. Thankfully they secluded themselves only to a scarce few places. The Ivory Shores was their second largest site, and one of, if not the most, sacred.

Yet here was the largest gathering in over a century. Thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, were here. Watching in stunned silence as this man began to coat the beach in colors so foul. Everyone seemed paralyzed as the body dropped to the floor.

“Sanguinem demands this! Sanguinem has requested of me, to paint this land in his colors. Now, step forward and be enlightened.” He was a daring man, not even attempting to hide himself. He had thin face, with sharp features. Yet, something was off about him, his eyes were shining with happiness. He seemed to be enjoying this sick event down to the bone.

A line of Acolytes immediately rushed forward, weapons drawn. “The Sentinel hast declared this the most holy of land. Not to be soiled by your heathen gods. For breaking such a sacred pact, thou shalt feel the pain of death. He shall watch over your unending torture with an equally eternal gaze. Now, see the errors of your ways!”

The apparent leader of this group urged his men forward. Their thundering stampede drowned out all words from the estranged, sadistic man. His mouth moved in awkward ways, speaking a foreign tongue. When his mouth closed for the last time, the men stopped in their tracks.

“Auuugh!” One of them desperately clutched the visor of his helm. “Corruption! Corruption!” He screamed madly. He spun around wildly, ripping at his protective metal plating. His mad spasms ended all too abruptly. He collapsed onto his fellow Acolyte, bringing him down. In a matter of moments, the entire line of them suffered a similar fate. Inky pools of blood oozed out of their helms.

He instantaneously turned his gaze to enormous crowd. He began speaking in his otherworldly chant. Waves of people dropped to the ground.

“Everyone! Head for the hills!” A voice bellowed in the crowd. That was all it took to cause chaos. Panic spread like wildfire as people pushed, shoved, and trampled others in desperation. Not all ran though. A good few stayed frozen in place. Mystified by power, they found themselves unable to move.

One girl in particular seemed particularly immobile. Her eyes were glued to this sadistic prophet and his insane actions. People pushed and shoved her around, but no one stopped to help her. Except for one.

“Sylvia, you have to move!” It was boy she knew. “You can't stay here, it's too dangerous!” The concern in his voice fell on deaf ears. He gripped her shoulders, shaking her about. His touch seemed to snap her out of whatever little fantasy she was trapped in.

“Theo! What are you doing? We need to run!” Her voice broke under this overwhelming sense of urgency. She grabbed his arm with both hands, attempting to pull him along. Now he seemed to be overcome with this prophet's sheer presence. “Theo, move!” She half yelled, half begged.

Theo suddenly pulled her into an embrace, wrapped his arms around her slender form. “Theo what are you doing?!” Sylvia shouted, outraged at this weird behavior. She fought against his strong grip as best she was able, but it was no use. He held her close. “What is wrong with you, Theo!” She shouted into his ear. He shoved her face into his broad shoulder, blotting out her view of the world.

“I'm sorry.” His whisper gently caressed her ears, his grip tightening.

“Theo? What are you...?” Sylvia didn't understand in the least. “...What do you mean...” Her thoughts spiraled off into strange tangents. Something was dripping into Sylvia's hair. She thought nothing of it at first. Only later would she realize what it was.

“I'm...so...so...r...” Theo didn't even get a chance to voice his thoughts. Sylvia could hear gurgling from the him, and hesitantly, she forced herself to look up at him. He was leaking blood from his nose and ears.

“NO! You...can't die Theo! You can't!” Sylvia felt her world grinding to a scary halt. She and Theo had been waffling over their feelings for each other recently. She had grown up next to Theo practically from birth. He had always been there for her, and she for him. But it seemed that those times of her life were crashing down, hard. Just when she finally thought she had something figured out, her world seemingly ended.

“Girl, run!” A deep voice bellowed from across way. Sylvia paid no attention to it, gripping desperately onto Theo's dying form. She wanted to die, she wanted to join him. She probably would have too, if the owner of that voice didn't interfere.

Before she even had time to register what happened, she was ripped from the arms of her childhood friend by gruff hands. By the time she was able to internalize all this, they were already well out of distance from the Ivory Shores.

“No, take me back! I want to go back!” She screamed, fighting this stranger's grip. But once again, it proved to be of little use. “I don't want to go anywhere.” She continued to voice her protests against this stranger's interference, but it proved of little use.

“Consider yourself even lucky to be alive.” He eventually spat out. His voice was slightly muffled, so she assumed he wore a mask under that cloak. “Most would have gladly killed others just to get out alive.” His serious tone silenced any further protests. She felt her eyelids grow heavy, her hold on consciousness slipping. The world was starting to spin. Exhaustion was creeping up on her fast.

“Lass, you need ta wake up lass.” Another voice, this one somehow more masculine than before. Yet it seemed much more caring and gentle. “Lassy, I need ta know if yar still of tis world or not.”

“I'm...I'm fine.” Sylvia replied, in a broken voice. She hadn't even opened her eyes yet.

“I don't know if tat's ta word I would use lass, but ye ar alive. Tank ta spirits for tat!” The man let out a hearty laugh, one that shook the very room they were in. Sylvia cringed at the sound, it was like a hammer driving a nail home in her head.

“Please, stop. It hurts.” Sylvia muttered, rubbing her head. It was rhythmically pounding, and every noise was incredibly amplified. The laughing stopped, and she could almost visualize a face growing concerned. Upon thinking it, it changed into Theo's bleeding face right before death. She gasped, the sudden emotional pain flowing back to her for a second. She could almost feel his final embrace, almost.

“Tat bad, eh lass? I'm sure old Rick could fix ya up wit a wave of is hand. Til tat happens, I'll try not ta hurt ya too much.” The sound of wood on wood scraping together graced Sylvia's ears as the man got out of his chair. “Get well, soon, lass. Lest ya want tis journey to be true hell.” With that to think about, she heard the door gently squeak shut.

“Finally, he's gone. But what was he talking about, a journey? What journey? Not like it matters anymore. I wish that I would have died back there. There's no reason for me to keep living, now that Theo's dead. I have nothing to look forward too, no cottage to make into a home, no fireplace to light. No life to live.” Sylvia whispered all these thoughts to herself in the quiet loneliness. “I was supposed to marry him, and we would have had such a nice life together. We would have settled down in Amber Woods. We would stay huddled together for warmth under a blanket in winter, sharing a cup of hot coffee. Then Theo would...” She shook her head, all these thoughts only made her even more dour.

“He, he just...killed them all. All in the name of this, Sanguinem. But why? What was there to gain from this? It's, it's not fair!” She was conscious of the small droplets of tears rolling down her cheeks. But she didn't care. “I just wanted to...” The door slowly opened. “To...”

“To what? Live in peace and happiness?” It was the man who saved her from before, she recognized his voice. He was wearing a tattered gray cloak, with hood. It covered the majority of his body. “I've got some news for you then, you're not going to be happy in this life or the next. That prophet just declared war on anyone who dared to oppose him, which as I'm sure you can imagine, is everyone. The entire land is mobilizing, people taking sides. Though I suppose you missed a lot in the two days you were sleeping.” His tone was harsh and painfully serious, but still slightly muffled.

“Two days?!” Sylvia was taken aback. She had just slept for forty-eight hours consecutively. Her mind suddenly became overwhelmed with thoughts. “Where are we? Where are we going? Is he following us? How many people are dead?!” The panicked questions tumbled out of her mouth in a mess of words.

“Calm down girl. We are in a camp a ways away from the Bloodstained Beach. We are headed to the east to seek shelter. No he's not following us, and well...You...you can't see the sand anymore, let's put it that way.” He tilted his head down. “There's maybe fifty of us left, and that's a generous estimate.”

“Fifty? Only fifty? But...there were thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands there!” He held up his hand to silence her. She didn't even ask about the name change. There was no reason to.

“Fifty.” He repeated in a quiet tone. “Just fifty at best.”

“Fifty.” Her voice was hollow and empty, and she dropped her gaze. After a long silence, she looked back up. “Where are we going?”

“To Altaria, specifically the capital city of Alte. We will arrive in a week or two, even if it's against those damn eye lovers.” Sylvia was confused for a moment, then realized he was talking about the Acolytes.

He took a large knife out of a concealed sheath. For a split second, Sylvia feared for her life, then she shook it off as irrational. He began throwing it against the small wooden table next to him.

“There's no way we can make it there in only a week. It's on the other side of the world.” Sylvia pointed out, more than complained. “It's not possible.”

“It is when you have that prophet to your back, makes you a little faster. And we're not stopping for any stragglers, either you keep up or we leave you for the dead.” He said simply.

“You're horrible! That's just, just plain wrong! Why are you already condemning people to die?” Sylvia was taken aback, the shock plastered on her face.

“Well then, I hope you can keep up. It'd be a shame if one more ingrate was left behind.” Sarcasm was oozing out of his mouth, coupled with an undertone of bitterness. “You're pretty negative for having just been allowed to live. Not many people are nearly as lucky as you. Perhaps I should have left you to die in favor of someone else.” With that, he retrieved his knife and exited. Sylvia was left feeling even worse than before, but at least she had information now.

She sat up, realizing she was in a tiny cot. It looked akin to something an army would use, due to it's utilitarian style. A mangy blanket, a hard pillow, and a rough, straw stuffed mattress. It left her feeling itchy and unclean. “But I suppose a bed is a bed.” She told herself with a sigh. She brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. “I can't let them leave me behind, even if it's just to spite that guy.” She found herself losing those thoughts of worthlessness and self pity, even if for just a moment. They were being replaced with those akin to fiery defiance and anger. “I will make it to Alte with them, they won't leave me behind.” She sounded extremely confident, even if it was just to psyche herself up. She hoped her lies would be enough to motivate her, because in reality she expected herself to be one of the first left behind. Life just seemed so empty now.

Sylvia carefully got off of her dingy bed, her eyes quickly scanning the room. She didn't recognize anything, nor did she see anything of use to her. “Oh, silly me. I didn't bring anything.” She muttered facetiously. She took one last cautious look of the room before turning to face the door. It was a weather beaten door, that was once beautifully decorated with ornate carvings. She could faintly see some semblance of a family crest, though it was impossible to make out the details.

Taking a moment to compose herself, Sylvia apprehensively placed her hand on the rusting knob. She took a deep breath before throwing the door open and taking one brave step into this new, terrible world.  

2: Chapter 2

Sylvia was forced to shield her eyes against the harsh light. After a few tentative blinks, the world began to refocus. She was in awe of her surroundings, not because of the stark beauty of trees the camp was nestled against. No it was a sickened awe, as she saw people who must have somehow survived the direct attacks.

They were missing appendages, feet, hands, noses, and she even spotted one man who had thick bandages wrapped around his eyes. As a matter of fact this man was wrapped head to tow in bandages, though he appeared to have all four limbs, and was mostly in tact. He wore a grim expression on his chiseled feature.

Sylvia could hardly stop the bile from rising in her throat. She nearly lost it when she felt a large hand grip her shoulder. “Alright there, lass? I know it must be a grim sight for ya, but try not lose yer stomach. It puts ta rest of us in just as foul as mood. No one likes being upchucked on.” It was the man from earlier. He was trying his hardest to make light of this dark situation. She turned to look at him.

He was a hulking mountain of a man, with a personality to match from what she'd observed. He had an enormous red beard that engulfed his face. His eyes were small, yet full of light and humor.“I, I'll try...and well...Thanks.” Sylvia found having to force the words out. Her mind was still set on the horrors of this camp.

“Don't mention it, lass. By ta way, name's Korduck, though most just call me Kor. What about you, got a name lass?” Kor looked at Sylvia, a friendly, open smile on his mouth.

“Uhh, name. Yeah, I've got a name. It's Sylvia.” She was distracted by all the blood and bitterness of those around her. She looked around at the gruesome scene one last time.

“Sylvia, eh lass? A right name if I say so meself. Come over here lass, ya need to be looked over by Rick. He'll make sure ya won't be inclined ta dig your own grave anytime soon. Cause I certainly don't want to dig!” Kor laughed at his own attempt at humor. He placed a beefy arm around her, steering her away from the center of the camp. She noticed he was keen not to let her see too much, and to be frank she was thankful.

They arrived at a tent larger than most. It was rather plain and boring, much like the rest of camp. There was little color or symbols. Sylvia found herself wondering more than once how people could navigate the maze of tarps, tents, and rundown buildings. But Kor never stepped out of beat, seeming to know exactly where to go. “Now, you just stay right out here lass, Have ta make sure Rick isn't busy, hates being interrupted.” The big man turned to the tent, and somehow managed to fit his massive form inside the tent. Sylvia was left standing there on the edge of camp, her arms wrapped around herself. She hadn't realized how cold it was, or perhaps how cold she was.

“Oi, lass. Rick will see ya now, just ta make sure yer good enough ta travel.” Kor poked his head out of the tend flap to greet her.

“Well enough to travel? What do you mean?” Sylvia's eyes started to widen in apprehension.

“Don't ya worry, lass. You seem well enough to meself, you'll do great.” Kor said, trying to seem upbeat.

“But, what happens if you don't pass his test?” Her wide eyes staring into the tent.

“Don't worry about tat, lass. You'll do just beautifully, oh and Rick seems to be calling for you, lass. I'd best let him get ta work.” Kor stepped outside, and before Sylvia could protest further, he nudged her inside. Or at least what he considered a nudge.

Sylvia flew into the tent, miraculously staying on her feet. She somehow managed to land neatly on a battered wooden stool with a quiet 'oomph.'

“Quick on your feet there girl, or perhaps just lucky?” Sylvia hadn't seen the man, Rick, when she entered. “Now, why exactly are you in this place? Because Kor thought it was just so damn important to bring a healthy girl in for a needless examination.” Rick turned to look at her.

He was a lanky man, practically all skin and bones. His entire left arm was covered in a clean set of bandages, and a pair of crooked glasses hung low on his nose. She also took note of the bloody needle in his hand, complete with thread.

“But, you didn't even do anything. Are you sure?” Sylvia couldn't help but be a little skeptical, and she timidly voiced her concerns.

“When you've been stitching people up as long as I have, you get a good feel for how someone's doing just by looking at them. But if you still think you need help, it's not the kinda of help I can give. You'd have to go see Ryth for that kind of help. Now, please be so kind to get out.” His tone was kind, yet there was an undertone of hostility.

“Wait! What kind of help are you talking about? And why do you think I need it.” Rick was already corralling Sylvia to the exit.

“I don't think you need it, you think you need it. Now get out.” He shoved her outside, and went back to his work.

Sylvia fell into the dirt, using her hands to brace herself. She was beginning to feel terrible again, and those man's words echoed in her mind. Perhaps I should have left you to die in favor of someone else. She slowly realized she was once again alone, as Kor was nowhere to be seen.

She had grown to immediately like the stocky giant, even if he was a little rough around the edges. But he treated her well enough and seemed to be looking out for her. But now he had abandoned her.

“It seems I've been left to twist in the wind. But I won't give them the satisfaction.” Sylvia picked herself off the ground, and dusted off her shoulders. Her eyes briefly scanned the camp, then she felt foolish. She didn't know who this Ryth was, more or less where they would be. So she did what seemed logical to her. She started wandering the camp, asking anyone who seemed approachable.

Most them simply stared at her with dark eyes. She also learned a few explicit words and slur that she'd rather not have known. When she made it to the center of the camp, it was already sundown. She felt incredibly defeated, having accomplished nothing in the course of a few hours. She felt unimaginably groggy and depressed.

“This journey, I'm going to die on it.” Sylvia sounded hollow, even to herself. She'd barely managed to bring herself to wake up this morning, her heart still heavy with the events of the past. Now here she was in a camp of people who were bitter, angry, and depressed. But they all had something she lacked, a will to live.

Ever since she was a little girl, her parents were there to help her. And if not her parents, then Theo. Now, she had no one. She thought about how easy it would be to just lie down and give up. Then these fifty something people could go on without her.

She walked back towards the edge of camp, figuring less people would pester her. At least that was her excuse, because she knew no one would pester her. She just wanted to be alone.

The sun had long since gone down, and no one payed any mind to Sylvia. She had stopped entertaining thoughts of Kor coming to see her, and had already accepted that she was going to stop here. Nothing would force her to go further.

“OI! Lass! What are ya doing here?” Kor was with a woman. She was tall and elegant looking, but extremely off putting. Her skin was a soft shade of blue, and her eyes a deep purple. Her hair matched her eyes to the point of being uncanny.

“Sitting and waiting.” Sylvia replied, the venom all too present in her words.

“Lass, what's ta matter with you!” Kor was beyond confused.

“Oh nothing, you just left me in a camp full of people who seem to hate me. I spent the better part of the day looking for you.” She shot back, even though it was a measly half truth.

“Lass, I've been doing ta same ting since I found Lady Ryth here. I've been worried sick about ya! Someting's not right in yer head.” His words were more concerned than angry.

“There's nothing wrong with me! I'm perfectly fine, that Rick said so himself!” Sylvia replied angrily. Ryth stepped in between the two.

“Korduck here asked me to talk to you and to be quite frank with you, I was inclined to meet a member of the Grey clan.” Ryth made a little curtsy motion, her long flowing dress dipping ever so slightly. She then made a little shooing motion at Kor. “Sir Shieldbreaker, if you would be so kind as to leave me with this fine young woman.” Kor's face reddened slightly when his surname was spoken so highly.

“Yes, right away, your ladyship.” Kor gave a deep bow of his head, before excusing himself.

“Now, young one, tell me what's troubling you.”

“What's troubling me?! You have the nerve to ask that! In case you haven't noticed, thousands of people were just slaughtered! What's there to be happy about!” Sylvia threw up her hands, outraged at this women. She continued on and on, describing in detail about what she had seen in a high pitched, furious voice.

Ryth sat there, waiting patiently. She fixed her dress a few times, smoothing it out. Sylvia finished, her eyes settling on the sleek woman’s form. “Well?!” Sylvia demanded, shouting.

“Well what?” Ryth asked gently. She remained unperturbed, her own gaze confident and understanding. “You still won't tell me the problem, young one.” She replied flatly.

“What do you mean?! I just went to great lengths to tell you al...” Ryth slowly put up her hand, indicating that the girl needed to stop talking. Sylvia did as asked, though she couldn't be sure why.

“You're describing the lands problem. I want to know you're problem. Here, young one, come with me.” Ryth extended her hand to Sylvia. Sylvia hesitated, but cautiously offered her own hand to the older woman. “Now, will you walk with me?” She asked, waiting for an answer.

“Walk...with you? Uhh...sure.” This woman came off stranger and stranger by the moment. But there was something, something that Sylvia couldn't quite place. She seemed to have this calming aura around. Not to mention her endless pool of patience. The two took off at a slow pace into the nearby forest. Soon, they were enveloped in a world of brown bark and golden leaves. Sylvia finally understood that man's reasoning for wanting to reach Alte sooner.

Winter would be upon them in less than a three weeks. They couldn't afford to dawdle, otherwise there would be no survivors from that horrific event. They would all freeze to death, they weren't equipped to deal with the harsh winters that were typically reported on the roads to Alte. Alte was know as the Frozen City to all those that didn't live there. Everyone had always heard rumor of all the blizzards that plagued the place, year after year, winter after winter. It was a miracle anyone lived there.

Sylvia was taken out of her thoughts. “Young one, come sit with me.” Ryth had gracefully dropped to a sitting position on a fallen trunk. Sylvia looked around, before shrugging. She sat down next to the older woman. “Now, young one, what's troubling you?”

3: Chapter 3

“Why do you want to know so bad?” Sylvia asked. Her voice had lost all traces of defiance and anger from before. Ryth could feel she was getting closer to the heart of the problem. “I'd rather not talk about it...” She trailed off, feeling her resolve weakening. Ryth felt the subtle mood changes in the area. She quietly clicked her tongue.

“Hmm, alright then. Perhaps you should like to know something about myself?” She asked Sylvia. The younger girl looked at her with wide eyes. From the moment she saw this strange woman, she wanted to know something about her, anything really.

“Yes.” Sylvia eagerly answered. Anything to take her mind off of this.

“Where to start? Hmm...Oh yes there. I hail from a land far, far to the west. I ran away when I was just a young girl, for I was to be married off to someone. I hated him, and his entire bloodline. He was a snobby, pure blood, who believed the world was crafted to be his personal playground. However he wasn't entirely bad. He had a soft spot for wounded animals. He tended to them, nursing them back to health. I suppose that was why my mother allowed my father to arrange the marriage in the first place. So, as I said, I left.”

“Just like that? You just upped and left?” Sylvia was a little in awe. “How old were you?”

“In your time? I'd guess around thirteen or fourteen. But we don't exactly age as you. I will stay in this form for many more of your years to come. I shan't be able to expound on our aging process, it would simply take up too much time.” Ryth paused, considering her next words carefully.

“You see, in my land, arranged marriages are the only way to get married. The fathers do most of the work, though the mothers can oppose it. But the cure is usually worse than the disease. So here I am.” Ryth sighed, remembering much of her childhood.

Sylvia took a deep breath, it was a little crazy. This woman's story was so strange and outlandish. Sylvia would have doubted it coming from anyone else, and she probably should have doubted it coming from Ryth. But something about Ryth's ways struck her as brutally honest. She found herself unable to doubt the magnificent, graceful woman.

Sylvia suddenly felt that calm gaze resting upon her. “Oh, right...Well, it's...I...” She found herself unable to give voice to her thoughts. All that emotional pain and suffering choked up her voice. “...It's not fair!” She lost it. Tears began streaming down her face.

“Shh, shh, it's okay young one. Just tell me what happened.” Ryth brushed a few stray hairs out of Sylvia's face. Sylvia looked at Ryth, tears pouring off her like rain. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her expression was extremely pained.

“Why!? Why did he have to die?! We made a promise to each other! We...He wasn't supposed to die! I don't want to live without him!” Ryth reached out to wipe a tear away from her face. “It's not right! We were going talking about marriage!”

“Young one...” Ryth trailed off sympathetically. She pulled the girl into a warm hug. “I can't promise you it's going to be okay, young one. All I can promise is that sun can only drop so low.”

What does that even mean!? Sylvia was beyond confused. But she didn't have time to worry about that now. She just allowed herself to be pitiful, continuing to cry in the older woman's arms. She hadn't even noticed Ryth's soft, melodic singing. The song sounded sad, yet peaceful. It had a strange, somber feel to it. Sylvia was too hysterical to process this though.

A long period of quiet sobs filled up a good chunk of both their time. Ryth had long since stopped her singing. She was content to run her hand through Sylvia's long, gray hair. “Young one, have I ever told you how envious I am of your people?”

“What?” Sylvia was befuddled, raising her head off Ryth's lap.

“Yes, your long, shining hair. I am jealous of its gorgeous color. For only your people have hair that is not quite silver, yet refuses to be gray. It is a strange shade in between.” Ryth replied, her hand never ceasing to stroke her silky locks of hair.

My hair is a strange shade? Coming from the woman with purple hair and blue skin. Sylvia sighed. Thoughts of utter misery and despair seemed to constantly assaulting her fragile mind.

“I'm sorry Sylvia, but it's time for us to go. I can hold the group back for a little, but I fear about pushing our time too far.” Ryth stood up slowly, brushing miniscule particles of dust off her dress. She offered her hand to Sylvia. “Come young one, let's go back.”

Sylvia begrudgingly got to her feet with Ryth's help. She knew the older woman was completely right, but she could care less. She would be content to just lie down on the forest floor, and never leave. But she went back with Ryth anyways.

Ryth was uncanny with her sense of time. The camp was packing up quickly, preparing to mobilize in full. The man who saved her life was barking orders at others, and ignoring three people standing behind him. They were desperately trying to get his attention, to no avail. Sylvia recognized them as Acolytes.

Something clicked in Sylvia's memory. This man had said something about the Acolytes not agreeing with his decision, or something along those lines. She wasn't quite sure who was the lesser of two evils here. The Acolytes were vicious to outsiders on normal occasions, but that man. Even though he saved her life, something didn't sit right with her. He constantly berated her for her pitiful ways, making her already empty life even more hollow.

“You there, careful with that! And you two, get back to work! We have no time for slacking off. Any and all who don't keep up will be left behind!” Finally, he could stand it no more. “What do you eye lovers want!?” He shouted to three behind.

“You're a fool for not listening. The West is home, not the Far Off East. He cannot guard The East, his judgment only flows so far.” One of the hooded Acolytes replied calmly.

“You possess no foresight, you do not realize you are leading us into the hands of heretics.” This particular Acolyte was a woman. She speak in a similar manner to the first, but it was evident she was more infuriated than the first.

The last one was the most peculiar of all. He was one of the high ranking officials there, appearing to be a heavily armored knight. His armor was made of a white gold alloy, with soft blue designs engraved all over it. The crest for the Sentinel was boldly engraved on his chest. A sword protruding from an eye.

The three left after this brief exchange, revealing the motto engraved on the knights back. He watches all. Sylvia shuddered as those words touched her eyes. Something about them, something about them made her feel cold. “He watches all...” She trailed off.

“Think nothing of those three, Sylvia. They have their own ways, almost like those Altarians they hate so much. It's unquestionably ironic.” Ryth replied. “Now do you have any things to pack? Or last minute preparations?” She asked gently. Sylvia shook her head.

“Hmm, then I'll have to go talk to someone about that. Can't have you dying from starvation or freezing over.” Ryth craned her neck, looking around. Finally a tiny smile emerged on her face. “Or not, seems you already have someone for that.” She couldn't her giggles.

Kor was politely wading his way through herds of people who seemed like ants. He was carrying three packs, one significantly larger than the others. It was assumed to be his. “Lady Ryth! Lady Sylvia! I ave yer packs!” He announced, waving the two smaller ones over his head with ease. He nearly trampled more than a few people, speeding up when the two women noticed him. It certainly was a sight to behold, a giant trying to pick up speed.

“Oh that Kor, I don't know what this camp would do without him.” Ryth said with smile and shake of the head. Kor was regarded as somewhat of a nuisance, but a welcome break from the seriousness of the outside world.

“Here ya ladies go. I made sure meself it had all te essentials. Blankets, clothing, and all tat other stuff.” Kor announced proudly, offering the packs to them.

“Why thank you Korduck, you truly are a gentleman.” Ryth replied, causing the big man to blush like a child. Now it was Sylvia's turn to giggle.

“MOVE OUT!” The man bellowed from his elevated position. “It's time to leave!”