Hermosa

The second herald, she will tear through this false sky, rendering us blind with her light.

Ignorance will make a liar out of you. With the power to see through the deceptions of this false world Hermosa has never found any reason to tell anything but the truth. Perhaps it was just because she was young and had no understanding of body language and it’s tells but everyone she had grown up alongside has seemed to hold the same power as her, the truth could not be hidden by any form of deception. So lies were difficult for her to tell to others, and too easy to see through. When the red fae came for her bleeding deception, staining her world with blood, she ran. There are many in this city who cannot be trusted, she was just unfortunate enough to be found by the worst of them.

She and Zi are very close, he is tasked with following her around and stating things that they need to know. There are many loopholes in her powers and this is one of them, it doesn’t matter if he knows the truths or not, as long as he speaks she will be able to tell what are lies and what is the truth. This gives the pair access to information they really shouldn’t be able to know and puts them at the top of Raodra’s hit list.

Also originally gained a spot on that list chasing her away from Zi, Raodra does not like dragons who can talk their way out of her traps.

The only emperor to survive and a dragon who knows only truths will tear this world apart. Zi is really chill and actually nice, he talks weird, very poetic but he’s ultimately just happy to have a friend who clearly cares about him. Powers the deviate from the regular elemental magic are exceptionally common here because of the angel that was killed in this pit, their essentially powered by the death of that angel and while the dragons themselves are influenced by that their powers are not, that’s just the energy left behind being infused into the dragons.

I can write world building here because she can easily figure all this stuff out anyway.

Super funny that Zi thinks he’s so special because he was an emperor that regained his status as a dragon when there’s dragon who can teleport down here. That’s not even mentioning the ghosts, empowered by the same energy from the angels death into returning as apparitions of their past selves. They don’t tend to go anywhere close to the city, sticking to smaller caverns and traveling freely through the stone to check out tunnels that aren’t connected to any of the cities many branches at all.

Suku is an exception but he has already had his revenge against Zi, and he understands it wasn’t exclusively Zia’s fault for his death anyway, he mostly just hangs out with them. Apparently Suku used to live in the city but he was exiled for some reason, he knows Raodra well which is concerning but ultimately helpful. They aren’t going to dig too deep into what are clearly personal matters, even if they have the power to do so. This is Hermosa learning that some secrets are not meant to be learned even if they are technically lies, it’s about respect for others.

She knows he’s happier now, and that’s all she needs.

She is the one that realizes that the magic/curse of Pinion is fading, and doing so fast. The city itself is being bled dry, the blood that once drenched this places is seeping away as those it infects turn upon each other. The ghosts are fading, the curse is lifting as the blood of the one who made it fades, and the city is beginning to cave in upon itself. Soon the sky will fall and they will all be free. She doesn't seem to realize that her death is not necessary for any of this, it will happen with or without her. Yet she still works to chip away at the curse and those that perpetuate it, trying to stop the bloodshed before too many are buried by it.

---

A small trickle of water had begun to carve out a place for itself at the mountains edge, the mountain, happy to meet its new companion welcome it and its coming.

The creek responded with a warning, “I will fell you.” It was never meant to be anything but a cautionary reply to an unnecessary kindness but the mountain took it as a joke, such a small thing could never kill it. It was insulting to be ridiculed by something so insignificant.

“I would like to see you try.” It bit out, towering over the small stream. “I think I will do nothing such, a minuscule thing like you could do nothing so grave to me.” Silt fell into the stream, diverting its path ever closer to its source.

“I will fell you.” The water responded again but this time with the rage of a threat.

Waterfalls tear away flesh

Underground stream carve away beneath, the mountain is hollow.

The mountain begs for forgiveness but it is already too late, the earth beneath its might gone, it will collapse. With it’s source gone the river will dry, but it’s task will finally be completed.

---

There was once a mountain dominating over this valley, a grand landmark defining these surrounding territories. Proud and benevolent it ruled its lands, but the great mass of stone and mud was comparatively young when set against the range that once stood in its place, nieve in the way only youth can be.

When the cold of its birth finally passed the mountain teemed with life, and of the many born from it another was born alongside it, the youngest of brethren. A minuscule stream trickled down from the age-old glaciers that still lined its peaks, one of the few remnants of its forefathers. The mountain was overcome with joy, another had been born from the cold that had carved it, another to settle this land alongside. The greatest of company, another youth no different from you.

The mountain welcomed its new guest, a blessing it had never yet extended to another. Welcoming the youngest into its fold, by the time this invitation had been extended the stream had already carved itself a place; falling against stone faces and pooling at the base as it settled into place. The mountain's fate had been sealed but for its kindness, it was extended a single warning just as unnecessary as its own courtesy.

"I will fell you." The stream whispered, the first breath it would ever utter.

Yet to the mountain, it could only be a cruel joke; Such a tiny trickle of water could not dare to threaten the mountain that played host to such an indignified parasite. A worm that barely brushed against its skin. It was insulting to be ridiculed by something so insignificant, in its rage silt surged upward and began to choke the stream, the boulders beneath rising like hackles when confronted with such a revolting thing. The thought of being taken by something so much younger and infinitesimal compared to its immense stature is one that will haunt this stone for the eons to come, but now it is only a mere thought, just as the river is only a mere stream.

"Try as you must, but I will bury you. It will only take a thought to fill your banks and leave you to leach into my soil like the parasite you are. You are nothing beneath me, foul serpent lying at my feet." The mountain hisses and spits just as it shakes, rage blooming as destruction at the shallow streams' banks. Diverting its path, driving it deeper into the soil.

The stream could weep with glee, filling every crevice with a hunger it did not know it would ever get to sate. For every moment of rage, for every slight against it, the stream slid deeper; cutting down to the very heart of the mountain. So young, so cruel, so naive. Justified it was to slay this beast.

No water graced the surface of the mountain other than the occasional rains, the stream had been choked into nothing but a puddle at the base of the valley; too far from the mountains' reach. There would be no bounty of water for some time to come as the stream had buried itself deep, gone from the world as it carved away at the mountains' stone heart and laid heavy in the soil. The stream was young but its source was older than even the mountains before this one. The very same water that once lined endless seas, swallowing the very world itself. It did not know patience, waiting was the nature of ice frozen in time and place; water had to move, to act. Winter was coming fast, the mountain had not seen a winter like this since its birth, it could not know that saturated soil would become a curse when before it had only known it to be a blessing; Something it deserved.

There was no need for the stream to expose itself to the harsh storms that came that final season, swallowed as it was in the belly of the beast. The mountain endured in its stead, reaping none of the benefits a harsh winter could bless as the rains stripped it bare, tearing away at soft soil already dense with cold water. By the season's end, the stream had no shortage of new banks to fill; Carved by the heavens itself. With such a blessing it returned with vengeance, deep springs revealing themselves as the rains leached from the soil to herald a new catastrophe. In their wake the mountain raged, but weakened and heavy with the scars of a harsh winter poorly handled it could do nothing as the waters once again breached its surface and further carved into its face.

"I will fell you." The stream hissed as it spread like rot against the mountains' skin, an infection so deep you would have to carve out your evey being to be rid of it.






There was no other ending but this one, who do you think fell the mountans that stood here before you? I should not offer you any further kindness, you had offered me less, but I want you to know that by felling you I will drown myself. I am born of the glaciers at your peak and the rising pressure and heat, just as you are born to them and their rage against the mountain that once stood in your place

together we are a whole, blood and flesh. It is neither of our faults that life is meant to be lived, and to live we much eat.