Valhalla

V A L H A L L A

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Mage ⦁ Overguard

The small Pearlcatcher did her best to keep up with the much larger Guardian as they made their way through the vibrant, crowded streets of the Outpost. Dragons from every Flight roamed the market, buying, trading, selling everything one's heart could desire; jewelry, armor, pastries, scrap metal, fresh fish, healing herbs, glowing orbs (who knew what those were for), and weapons just to name a few. Levels and levels of floating platforms rose above her head, extending the already huge market skyward. The entire place seemed to be lit with bright, multicolored lanterns.

In the distance, on the tallest hill outside of the city, she could just make out the shape of a huge pair of Gaolers on either side of a very, very long set of stairs. She could already feel her legs growing tired after walking through the Outpost, she couldn't imagine how in the Icewarden's name she'd make it that far.

The Guardian, who she hadn't actually learned the name of, turned back to call over her shoulder, "keep up. We have a long way to go."

As if she hadn't noticed already.

After what felt like ages, they found themselves on a snow-covered cobblestone path in the middle of the frozen tundra. She was thankful to be a child of the Icewarden, unbothered by the harshest of colds. That didn't save her from fatigue, however. Her body was moving slower, her limbs growing heavier with every step.

Finally, it stopped. She collapsed into the snow, almost too tired to lift her head at the Guardian's voice.

"Some day, child. Some day you will make this journey on your own, and it is then that you will be ready."

The Guardian's words didn't make sense to her, but she didn't have the energy to tell her so. Instead, she let her eyes close as she was lifted onto the Guardian's back. She felt huge wings unfurl and a surge as they took to the sky. The soothing rythm of powerful wingbeats eased her into sleep.


She woke as the Guardian landed, a soft, cold breeze ruffling her mane as she was carefully set down on the stone path. Just ahead were those gigantic stone Gaolers. At least, she'd thought they were stone; upon closer inspection, they were made of ice. They stood at least ten stories tall, were carved in great detail, and each possessed a pair of glowing eyes. The Guardian, noticing where the Pearlcatcher's attention had focused, strode toward one and bowed her head.

"We call them the Sentinels. Not only do they watch over us here, they look over the Outpost as well."

The Pearl slowly stepped up beside her, bowing her head as she had seen the other dragon do. The Guardian watched her in silence before turning to continue along the path, beckoning for her to follow into the thick mist that lay beyond the Protectors.

The mist seemed to part around them, creating a safe passage through its depths.

"Do you have a name, child?" The Guardian asked. Her voice echoed through the now thinning mist.

The Pearlcatcher thought a moment. No one had ever asked her that.

"No, I don't," she finally answered.

The Guardian didn't seem at all surprised. Instead, she laughed softly as she responded. "Everyone has a name, young one. Allow me to give you yours."

Funny; the Guardian was to give her a name, and yet she did not know the name of Guardian.

"I don't know your name," she said.

The Guardian either ignored her or didn't hear her, but she didn't speak again until the mist finally vanished, allowing them to step out into the courtyard of the biggest building the Pearl had ever seen. Like the city, the entire place was lit with multicolor lanters, giving the area a surreal look. Several dragons were spread about the space, some sparring, others casting different spells. It was a beautiful sight.

"My name is Eriyn," the Guardian said. "Welcome home, Valhalla."



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