Sreka (prime)/Sreka's Search for Lost Children

Sreka's Search for Lost Children

Originally posted on the official forums by GEHAYI on 01/14/2020 at 08:35 PM CST.

Sreka painstakingly made her way through the wilds on Four Winds Isle.

She had no idea where the stolen children might be, and truthfully, she didn't believe that the Flock would have left them anywhere easily accessible, particularly in a forest so close to Mist Harbor. That seemed impractically reckless, and if she was any judge, the Flock seemed to be not only methodical but to be playing a long game.

But her instincts were telling her that there was something deeply wrong nearby. Maybe in the wilds; maybe on one of the smaller islands in the Eastern or Western Waterways. But where wasn't as important as what. And it felt--it even smelled--like a monstrous storm was brewing. She could almost feel lightning sizzling in the air, brushing against her skin.

Until a few months ago, Sreka had spent her life as a slave on a krolvin corsair. If she knew anything, she knew how merciless a storm could be. This one felt as if it had been building for a perilously long time.

She went through each zone of the wilds methodically. Monsoon Jungle. Cloud Forest. The Cor'rah. Shimmering Mists. A predator of some sort roared at her once. Another time, she was briefly outpaced by a Guardian of Sunfist opening a door in the air to a Grimswarm warcamp. And yet, despite checking every single zone, the wilds was oddly placid. She could almost hear it whispering.

<Nothing wrong here. I'm a perfectly normal forest, me. Why, there's nothing going on beneath my surface at all.

Sreka shook her head.

<I must be imagining it. I'm more familiar with the sea than the land. How do I know what's normal for forests? Especially this forest?

She was all but falling asleep on her feet when she stumbled upon the butterflies.

Up until now, the wilds had been dark and, barring the occasional screech of an owl or forest bird, quiet. The silence remained, but the nighttime darkness retreated, leaving her staring at a bright green glade filled with vibrantly hued orchids and equally colorful butterflies flitting about. It looked like high noon.

Sreka peered west of her, then east. Both areas were dark. A quick glance at the sky told her that yes, it was still filled with stars, despite the false noon of the glade.

She could feel a lassitude creeping through her, though. *You should sit,* it told her. *You're exhausted. You've been walking for so long that you're ready to fall over. It's time to sleep. Rest. Rest...*

"In peace?" Sreka said aloud, and then let loose a short bark followed by a grunt of doubt. "I think not."

Without thinking, she headed west--as far from the Glade of False Noon as she could get. It wasn't long before she reached the area of the forest known as the Forbidden Hills. She had to climb in much of that region, which was a blessed distraction.

Then she reached the Grasslands.

Looming in the distance was a large mountain that stood in the center of the island. A cloud of mist surrounded the upper portion of the mountain, hiding it from view, while thick jungles ringed it in a skirt of verdant hues. Green. Again. Green that should look like tar to me, as there's little beyond starlight and it's the middle of the night

Winding its way through rolling foothills was a twisting passage that led to the distant peaks. Sreka frowned at this passage. Her map, which was unquestionably old, indicated that the pass was closed. When mountain passes marked closed on maps, that usually meant a rockslide or an avalanche. This was open. At least, it looked open.

<Ronan, Tonis, and Imaera be with me.

Hesitantly, she stepped into the pass.

• The passage is closed,* said an unfamiliar voice. Sreka could not deem it her imagination; it was too certain. Right now, "certain" did not describe how she felt at all.

She pushed forward again. The voice repeated its words...though now, Sreka thought uneasily, it was not speaking but snarling. Something did not want her here.

<All right. There's a barrier in this passageway. Is it intangible or is it solid?

Feeling foolish, she gestured as if tapping on the air--and was astonished when her fingers brushed an unseen wall.

<But people don't build walls out in the middle of nowhere. They only build walls for two reasons--to keep the world out, or to keep themselves in.

Someone, it seemed, wanted very badly to do one or the other. Or perhaps both.

And, as near as Sreka could tell, there wasn't a door in the wall...or even an alternate path to the distant mountains. A boat wouldn't help, as she was far from a river or the sea, and airships were so rare as to draw instant attention.

<You'd need something else to get back and forth from the mountain. A gold ring, maybe. Or a...

<A portal.

Hadn't Greth Rottgut said that the five who had assaulted Penre and stolen the children had used a portal to escape?

<Maybe wherever they went is is like the Monastery in the Lyserian Hills. Someone who can already access the place has to open the way. And since the Flock has no intention of opening the way to the Defenders, that gives them a stronghold that we can't breach--and hostages we can't rescue.

It was all supposition, of course. There was no proof, and Sreka had no idea how to obtain any. And yet...and yet it fit all too well.

She gazed at the mountain, straining her ears for a word or a scream as she scanned the distant cliffs for even a glint that might be a lantern's light or a telescope. She saw nothing, heard nothing--but as she stared at the mountain that loomed high above the rest of the island, she recollected an image from the Flock's propaganda posters: a gigantic crow flying far above the Isle, its outstretched wings shrouding the island in shadow.

What if "we loom over you, and you are all under our wings" wasn't just a metaphor? If the Flock was on top of that mountain, they would loom over the rest of the Isle. The entire Isle would, in fact, be under the Flock. And the Flock could say this without lying.

Of course, she had no proof that the Flock was on, or even near, the mountaintop. Hiding beneath the ground in burrows would make more sense. But something told her that this would offend their pride--and their metaphors. They spoke automatically of wings, of soaring, of flight. They would need to be somewhere high, somewhere that those not of the Flock could not climb or swim to. Perhaps on the mountaintop. Perhaps a stranger, more uncanny plane of existence, like the Rift or the Confluence, adjacent to the mountain's peak.

Uncanny. She let loose a wild yowl of laughter. Her mind was playing games, it seemed. After all, only one word meant "uncanny" and sounded just like the word that meant "a hard-to-reach mountaintop nest of a large bird of prey."

<Eerie.

<Aerie.

OOC Note: This is the room that Sreka is talking about. You'll notice that I copied the description, changing only the tenses of the verbs.

[Forbidden Hills, Grasslands - 20979]
Looming in the distance is a large mountain that stands in the center of the island. A cloud of mist surrounds the upper portion of the mountain, hiding it from view, while thick jungles ring it in a skirt of verdant hues. Winding its way through rolling foothills is a twisting passage that leads to the distant peaks.
Obvious paths: northeast, east.