Stormson pt. 5

It had once occurred to Nillili that there was no more to life than sitting on a throne and ordering people about. But one morning a man came in, his clothes in tatters, saying something about bandits on the road and losing his fortune an his family, and the thought never passed through her mind again that there was anything more important than helping people like him.1

She ran a silver chain through her fingers, on the end of which sat a black pendant. It was a peace offering from the Western Council. It had been long rumored that the Eastern Kingdom was dead, but Nillili's mother had put an end to that and revived the kingdom; she breathed breath back into it's lungs and put blood back into it's veins. It's heartbeat was in tune with hers, and she had passed this honor onto her daughter. Nillili wouldn't, COULDN'T fail her. 2

Her fingers clenched around the chain upon thinking of her mother. Her mother wouldn't know if she succeeded or failed. She was gone. Vanished. Some peace offering, for with it both Nillili's parents and their companions vanished. It wouldn't have been so bad if she could PROVE that the Western Council was behind it. No matter who she hired, no one could seem to find a trail. She had another option, though she felt it might be best not to explore it. She gazed into the stone, and much like Saro felt something important stir in the back of her mind, but lost it forever when someone dropped a plate in to corner of the room, bringing her out of her trance.3

4

There was memory stored in this place. Every so often you walk into a building, and everything you think seems to echo. You have to try real hard not to remember anything important because it'll be sucked up and they'll be held strong by the walls and you'll never get it back.5

It's a rule of thumb that the memories that enchant such a place are bad ones. After all, nothing that can make a place swallow your mind whole can ever be good. It so turns out that the events that darkened the hall of Western Council were far more relevent than would ever be suspected by the few people who indulged in such fairytales.6

The people who indulged in such nonsense were old beyond their time, and remembered the stories in the context that there were worse things in the world than those they faced. There was something, they remembered, about the queen from the east. There was something as well about a witch who was stupid enough to indulge in myths. Myths within myths is what these were. Who had time for such nonsense?7

But there were those that did. They remembered something about seven stones that held an ancient evil. They remembered something about a witch more wicked than the more recent one. Witches within witch's myth. There was something about a wolf, too. It figured; there were always wolves everywhere. Not in the Western City though. They were of pure stock there, with no times for mythical nonsense. The wolf was free though; free from the ties that bind. She couldn't be bound, save by a God's command, and there was a pact that kept her from it. Just stupid myth, so much stupid myth...8

But it is the habit of fools to indulge in the darkest of myths, those ones that should be allowed to die, but were held by wicked buildings like one the Western Council now resided in. And one fool had found three of the seven stones, and set into motion something terrible.9