Cerys

Cerys, the Channeler

"Come with me, vestige, through the darkness."

Cerys has lived her whole life as an inquisitive and studious Fae, delving into even the darkest corners of archive or realm in pursuit of knowledge and wonders.

--

"Well, that is curious, is it not? It seems that the task of flight has been passed exclusively onto me," Valen rumbled, glancing back to where Cerys clung to his shoulder. "I would suppose that is another advantage of your stature."
"Will it always be about my stature between us, Valen?" Cerys intoned, looking down at the pockmarked black stone of the Ashfall Waste below them. "It feels like everything you've ever said to me is about how small I am."
Valen chuckled, a low tone that resonated in Cerys' very bones. "If one petitions to work alongside me for the reason of their stature, they ought to expect me to mention it."
"I can concede that."

They flew in silence for some time, scanning the land for places of interest that wouldn't step on the toes of any Fire clans, before landing at a crag of rock jutting out of a desolate plain in the shadow of the Great Furnace.
"I will break up stone here, and you can search that outcropping for items of interest. If my work manages to put you at risk, call out, and I shall cease," Valen explained before taking his pick to the rock without a glance back.
"Works for me," Cerys muttered, leaving the Imperial behind and darting over to the crag. It only took a glance to see that there were several clefts in the stone large enough only for a dragon of her size to creep in. She took a deep breath. If there were beasts in there, she was deft enough to flee, she thought to herself, and crept into one of the caves.

After an extensive search of most of the caves, she had only come up with scraps of cloth and wood, with her finest discovery being a meager trove of gold.
"Best for last, right?" she mused to herself as she crept into the last opening in the rock.
It didn't take even a moment for her to see that something was different here. The space seemed deliberately closed off by a couple of stones, though moving them was of little issue.
Looking inside, she saw something absolutely fascinating. Strange, glowing glyphs were etched into the walls of this tunnel, an unindentifiable script moving in a spiral pattern. The layout of the space made her feel like she was being pulled into its depths, and in a way, she was: she couldn't help herself but travel deeper into the stone.
This was the deepest tunnel by far, snaking far into the rock. She worried she might have found a path into someone's lair. She should leave, she thought to herself, it wasn't safe in here, but she found herself walking along despite the feeling, deeper and deeper into the ground. The air felt hotter and hotter around her, and the glyphs were her only source of illumination.
Around the next turn, she caught a glimpse of blue, blue as her wings, and halted with a shock. A dragon?

Extending her neck to cautiously peer around the bend, she saw it: not a dragon, but a set of blue armor adorned with crimson eyes, staring back at her from upon a metal armor stand. It was visibly made for a fae, and likely by a fae, she thought, proportioned and sized perfectly for her ilk. She took a step closer, and saw the glyphs flash around her.
From within the armor emerged the shimmering vermillion figure of a fae, like a ghost or mirage. They stared at her without a word.
"Who are you? What is this?" she asked, staring at the figure, incredulous.
She heard only the echo of her words returning to her. The figure was as silent as the grave.
She took another step toward the armor, then another, and then one more...
...and in a silent wave, the glowing glyphs and the spirit alike disappeared. All she saw were the glowing eyes on the armor, staring at her, waiting for her to make the next move.
She froze there, for a long moment, looking at the armor, weighing her options. She had no idea what it could do, to her or to others. If she were a wise dragon, she would turn around and leave, she knew that. This kind of strange magic was not to be trifled with.

Then she closed the distance between her and the armor, and lifted the helmet from the stand.



Alan, the Lingering Shade, from the lair of TheEnforcer