"I often think of the time in my life wherein I carried a spear and shield, acting as bulwark to the Ascended One. Any other who had found their destiny in our fellowship, like as not, feels much the same as I. While the years slowly rob of me my strength and lividity, my memories remain clear, they remain precious reminders. At the peak of his strength, Iasion could bring dead forests to life, he could carve rivers into the earth and pull mountains skyward. Those of us who had followed him from the start, we were witnesses to such miracles and divinity alike. It was, in truth, the way the legends often told, to see the Ascended's power and to bask in it. The Ascended One's very being was so entwined with the grace of the earth beneath his feet, that flourishing greenery and rushing rivers all beckoned to him. With such miraculous skills, we had said to one another, and we knew, that he could have easily built himself temples and a sprawling kingdom to rival that of any supposed emperor or king. However, he was loath to separate himself so distinctly from the humanity he loved. He walked the world and we walked with him as he brought flourish in his wake to the lands. We were his stalwart company as his travels, healing and bestowing blessings upon the needy from his divine hand to help them thrive. He loved mankind, for all its faults and folly.

Even when humanity itself sought to cage him, he loved them still.

Love had ever been self-sacrifice, but during a tumultuous era, where Kings chosen by man and not the divine felt their greed once more quicken, that love became the heavy hand of discipline.

A deity of love and nature, of peace and fellowship, Iasion never tried to subjugate those who did not deign to follow him, nor did he demand worship not given of free will. When pressed, when so threatened was the peace he valued so thoroughly by those who coveted his sanctified power, Iasion did all within him to find peaceful resolution. When such resolution would not come, when non-violent overture was met with carnage of innocents, an example was made. While it hurt him dearly, pained him, he would turn his flourishing will into that of scouring curse.

Never was a visage so haunting in its beauty, so devastating in its grief, than that of Iasion standing ready at the vicious, towering walls that ensconced the kingdom of Striyn G'aria. High parapets were adorned in ghoulish mockery with the corpses of believers of the faith, followers of Iasion's word. I commit the sight to parchment, to the annals of history, though I fear I cannot do them justice with simple words. To have stood behind the Ascended One, to feel the waves of sorrow radiate from him where there should have only been peace and calm, is something I will never forget until the end of my days.

"Step back, my most trusted cadre, I would have none but myself stain their hands this day. Mine alone will bear the scars, mine alone is the weight of this mantle, that of healer and executioner both. When the sun sets upon this kingdom, it sets for the last time."

Arms outstretched, the rumble of the earth and rushing of the winds could be felt, I am told, as far as miles from the borders of Striyn G'aria. The act of creation is a spiritual experience, it is sacred beauty and hope.

The act of destruction, of scouring, is an act of punishment most divine."

-Account of Amalira, Fourth Apostle of the Ascended One, Battle Maiden of the Verdant Spire

Van rubbed one shoulder, relatively uncomfortable sleep outdoors often had a way of making him feel stiff upon waking. Not impossible to deal with of course, but troublesome all the same. Idly, he looked upward, the trees overhead were benevolent enough to just barely let the dawn's light begin to filter through. Getting to his feet, he paused only long enough to stretch, before a glance told him despite everything, Sinaht had been the first to wake between the pair of them. Not seeing the other boy in the immediate area wherein they'd made their temporary camp meant he'd likely gone to give one last circuit of the surrounding woods. Wandering their small camp, Van busied himself packing up what few things were left out into their packs. He was careful to kick dirt back onto the few smoldering remnants of their modest campfire, it was with utmost caution he made sure it was good and smothered.

These outer, relatively untouched areas of the Shifting Wood which spilled out past the towering walls that neatly embraced Aiseryn, were still sacred even if they were less zealously guarded. Their proximity being farther removed from God's Fall, meant they were a little less touched by the grace from the Bough of the Divine. The capital still sent patrols out, particularly when Seers from within the Citadel spoke of disturbances, however. In truth a disturbance could mean anything from someone wounded within the woods, in need of aid, to someone desecrating the forest in some manner. When a Seer could not easily distinguish the sort of trouble from afar, the soldiers were sent to survey the woods.

So, careful as he could, Van ensured not a single living ember remained. Ascended forbid he not pay close attention and a lone ember be the start of setting the forest ablaze. That sort of mindless but still desecrating sin would be sure to damn his soul. Distant forest or not, lesser blessed or not, it was all connected and sacred. While logging was allowed only in specific seasons, and by certain legal permissions of the Capital, hunting of small game or beasts was more loosely enforced. This was due to the common folk outside the walls needing that particular bounty for survival. Of course, that was what was said, but the unspoken rules were somehow more pervasive than the distinctly stated ones. To hunt more than what was considered some arbitrary 'minimum' required for one to craft or sell to survive, was viewed as unseemly, shameful behaviour. It was said that such 'greed' was a disrespect of the gifts freely left behind by the Ascended.

Van, for as much as he had been raised knowing the teachings of Iasion, could not for the life of him think that the Ascended cared all that much about the precise numbers of game hunted. Why would their God be keeping that sort of 'score'? It seemed ridiculous to him. Still, he and Sinaht were careful to keep within the 'acceptable' number between the two of them. Their luck had brought them their usual rabbits and a pheasant or two, but the 'prize' of the outing had been a fox. Van's own 'aim' was not as true as Sinaht's, so that prize had not been won by him, in any case. The seasons had not been kind to Van in regards to him finding anything specific he excelled in just yet, even if they had for the others whom he had bonded with on the journey to Aiseryn.

Five seasons.

Five seasons had come and gone, since he and his now 'family' had been roughly uprooted from what they knew and figuratively tossed from their places of origin. Their arrival to the outskirts of the capital had been a time of simultaneous relief and chaos. The outskirts spanned still miles from the walls of the Capital, even if from the distance one could clearly see the enormous, towering oak. The Bough of the Divine had been a sight to behold, even from afar, that Van and the others had almost immediately felt...protected. To see that majestic oak in the distance, to know it was a constant, always in bloom, was enough to make one feel hopeful in turn. Even so, the outer reaches were the most rustic and simply put, the most impoverished. Many of the members of the caravan had split off into smaller groups, the competitive nature of survival in a new place meant trying to stabilize themselves first and foremost. Not that any could truly be blamed, they had all come with precious little but still felt fortunate to have been able to keep their lives after what they'd experienced in their villages and on the road. Soon enough, they all learned that true charity was few and far between in the outskirts. Temple monks from closer to the walls would go out to give alms to the needy that dwelled in farthest reaches of the outskirts, but it was never quite enough.

Travelling freely into Aiseryn proper was not something just 'allowed' of anyone either, and most of the common folk would never see past the walls. Few even tried to make that journey, the scope of Aiseryn was often difficult to fathom until you were physically there. From the outlying areas to the better streets and settlement wards closer to the walls would take days of travel across the more untamed woodland roads leading from the outskirts. As such, why would most common folk try their luck? To simply be barred entry at the gates when they were seen to be common? That would assume they even made it through to the walls at all! Scarcely patrolled roads amid the encroaching forest paths were unsafe to travel. Even foreign traders or diplomats were always accompanied by an entourage of paid mercenary bands or soldiers for protection. If the beasts dwelling in the shadows of the woods did not strike, bandits surely would.

In reality, if Aiseryn had roles to fill, the nobles and officials that ran the city's infrastructure would send specific people in their employ to seek out those to slot neatly into the work. Sometimes, the search brought them outside the walls. It was nearly unheard of to simply arrive without being sent for in some manner. Such 'good fortune' was nothing to scoff at of course, it was veritably life changing. Even if you weren't moved beyond the walls, those that had managed to be chosen and given a chance to dwell in the wards closest to the walls, were hesitant to give an inch to their fellows. They were wary of it. What if they themselves ended up being pushed back farther somehow by proxy of uplifting someone else? So guarded were positions that allowed one's family to begin to set their roots in those more comfortable wards, with legitimate city guard patrols and proper temples of worship, that it could be seen as downright shrewd. To be able to trade or send their goods beyond the walls to sell, to carve a living out for themselves and their loved ones, to begin a true 'family business' or reputation of sorts, why would they give such a 'hard earned' boon freely to another?

Greed was unseemly, but people had no trouble disguising it as being practical.

Whenever Van thought about it too much, he was brought again and again to the questions that had plagued him as a boy. The most simple issues, problems that could've rightly been solved by a more equal measure of resources or aid, were often never as cut and dry. Rather, there were too many obstacles to a simple solution, be it rule or law or custom that boiled down to 'this is just how things are'. It made no sense. Not an easy thing for him to accept as a child, less so now that he was a few seasons older.

As Van shouldered his pack, the footsteps of his companion became audible. He turned in time to see Sinaht returning with a smile on his face and another hare in hand.

"I figured I could manage another at least, before we had to go." He said, triumphant, before moving to properly stow away the prize amid the few others.

"What timing, like a premonition." Van said, smiling back. "Like you knew being off and away meant I'd be cleaning up the camp! Though, at least bringing something back means I can't be mad about it without looking ungrateful." Amusement in his tone, laughter following.

A dismissive wave of hand from Sinaht as he shouldered his pack and lifted the additional sack of their things. "If you're gonna be mad about anythin' it may as well be that I got more than you." A devilish smile spread across his face. "Again."

Van rolled his eyes. "This time shouldn't even be counted, we're going back earlier than we usually do."

Excuses, but he had to try.

One final check that their fire was properly smothered, before the pair began their trek back. The now-familiar path, guided by landmarked trees, would take them back to the roughly hewn roads that led to the outskirts once more.

"If we had more time, maybe a few more traps could've been set too." Van added, though he didn't sound particularly like he was trying to convince his friend of it. Idle chatter was often the way of things on any sort of travel after all.

If there was anything they all knew, it was travel, given how they'd all come to meet one another.

Sinaht sighed heavily, nodding in agreement all the same.

"A few more could've, true." He confirmed, thoughtful. "Still, I guess no point in thinking about 'could have's. Can't be helped. Bad weather set us back a bit, sure, but we've got to be home before tomorrow. Or else..." Counting on his fingers, now. "Lottie will tirade or Hyuna might come looking for us, or Luka will...Ascended be good, I don't even know what he'd do. Probably be too busy trying to either stop Lottie's tirade or tag along with Hyuna? Tough to say."

Slight laughter escaped Van as they walked. He ran a hand through his dark hair, thinking over the 'possibilities.'

"I never know what Luka's thinking. Didn't before, don't now, even after these seasons." He said. "I would've thought a bit of that hag's attitude would rub off on him, but he's pretty much the same. Quiet and odd."

Sinaht snorted. "While the hag is LOUD and odd. Funny how that works out."

While the two so flippantly referred to the old apothecary that was Luka's teacher as a hag, they wouldn't dare do it where she could hear them. The woman was eccentric, surely, but rumors had always hung around her apparently. The most prominent one was that somewhere distant in her family tree, she had Stiryn blood. That was how most explained away how strange she was, how off-putting. Under any other circumstances, they might've thought her cursed or wicked. However, odd or not, Asherah often knew the best of herbs, poultices and potions. While the outskirts had shabby temples with a few monks or nuns of the faith, the wait to be seen was often long and not guaranteed. Having the 'hag' of an apothecary nearby to consult was a practical choice in comparison. Luka had struggled to find a way to contribute amid the five of them, but had somehow stumbled into meeting Asherah. Whatever he said to her, however he behaved himself had apparently made an impression on the old woman. Before any of them knew it, she was barking orders at him as he assisted within her rickety shack of a shop.

"Lottie's still going to have an earful for us anyway." Sinaht continued, making a face. Exasperation mixed with resignation, as he spoke. "Somehow she's always got the energy for that no matter how long the days are."

Van smiled, shrugging his shoulders. Stepping over some particularly gnarled tree roots, they came closer to a more well-beaten path. More sunlight was filtering through the canopy above, soon they'd get to the road.

"She just worries, but I think it's just this time of year that's rough." He glanced over. "For all of us, right?"

Sinaht furrowed his brow. "I guess." His words were terse, as he then continued trying to sort his thoughts a moment longer. "I don't say shit about it to her, of course, but if I was her? Tch, I wouldn't be setting a damned thing down for her folks on the altar."

Van hesitated. "She still wants to, though. I mean, it's really up to her if she does or not."

"I know! I know, it's her choice, she wants to waste the lilies on them, then she's free to. I don't gotta like it." There was frustration clear in his tone. "It's just shit, is all. I mean, you didn't know your pa or anything and mine wasn't no prize either, the drunk fuck, but compared to Lottie's old man? Damn near a saint."

Van quieted, listening to him. Not a new topic, but also not something they discussed much. Close as they'd all become through both the road and cobbling together a place for themselves to live in the outskirts, some things were just left alone. By and by, he'd gotten a fair picture of what Lottie's situation had been in Lilhshara. Her father had been known to beat her bloody on occasion for any reason he thought fitting while her mother had simply let him. Sinaht had commented to Van once, it was like her father was punishing her for being a daughter and not a son.

"I think she feels guilty." Van looked over at his friend. "You know. For living, for making it out back then when it all went to hell. I think we all kind of feel that a little, right? On some level."

Van spoke honestly. It came easy to simply state it as such because he did feel it at times. He felt the guilt of having lived, while his mother hadn't. A hollow in the pit of them, that they survived while others hadn't. Even if it wasn't their guilt to shoulder, it didn't mean they stopped feeling it. Why the universe had decided to give them the chance while others had gone instead to the Ascended, was beyond reasoning. During this part of the season, it was bound to rise up in them again more avidly all the same. In another day or so, it would be almost exactly five seasons since they'd all arrived at the outskirts, to begin anew. Amongst themselves, they'd made it a tradition for that day to be when they paid their respects to those they'd all lost.

Sinaht let his expression soften if only a little, attention forward again as they walked onward.

"Ugh." He sighed heavily, looking at Van briefly. "In that case, then it's more like when she sets those lilies down, they're for her more than for them." He brushed the back of his hand against his nose briefly. He nodded. "I can live with that."

A very light smile came to Van, at that. For all their squabbling and poking at one another, the prodding and complaining, Sinaht and Lottie were as close as siblings. Sure, they'd all become like family but those two? Those two had come as a set, outright. Sometimes he wondered how either of them made it when Van and Sinaht were off like this on hunts.

"It's just as well, we best get back with enough time to actually help." Van mused.

Sinaht looked at him, almost incredulous. "Actually help? What in the world is all this then?" He said, indicating the pack he carried, meaning what they were bringing from their little excursion. "This not helpin?" There was a smile on his face, though, he was teasing as was his nature.

Van smiled crookedly at him. "You know what I mean!" He stated, shaking his head. "I mean the altar obviously."

Considering the shabby structure the five of them called 'home', the altar in question was nothing grand. A single room shared amid the lot of them meant space was limited for one, but it also meant the sort of altar they could manage was rustic at best. What did at least dress it up to a more respectable standard in Van's opinion and that of the others, was the incorporation of the white lilies.

"Before we left, Hyuna seemed to think another day or two before they would' gather the lilies for it. She'd been watching them like a hawk, besides." Sinaht mentioned, thoughtful. "Can't imagine a dozen more sprung up since then, at least."

A small patch of earth behind their dwelling had been set aside for growing the lilies which, despite the lackluster soil and waning light, bloomed. The same could not be said for their attempts at vegetables now and again, though. Would that the lilies shared whatever Ascended given grace they still held with the produce too.

Van chewed his lower lip a moment. "I was thinking about carving tokens for it. Nothing big, of course, we don't have the space, but something more you know?"

He avoided glancing over just yet, there was a part of him that still felt like he needed to keep a particular distance from something with honest emotion even now. Even despite what they'd all been through upon meeting five seasons ago.

From his peripheral at least, he saw the movement of a nod from the other.

"That could work, it'd be nice. I think they'd like that." Sinaht looked over just as Van deigned to glance in turn. "I like it too, of course. It's a good idea."

They were both skirting the overt emotional factor a bit, but that was just the way of things. Perhaps it was the way of boys, even, to try not to speak too deeply on things like sadness or grief. It was difficult to seem capable, and grown, when you felt tears sting your eyes because you were trying too hard to remember your mother's face or her laugh. The five of them by making an altar for their dead in remembrance, reminded themselves of more painful moments in their lives at the same time. At least, to do so amid one another made it clear they weren't alone in it, or alone in the world. Fellowship was a mercy they would all hold close and protect, because alone they would surely be crushed beneath the ever moving, ever changing world.

Silence settled between them a while then, a comfortable quiet, as they walked out from the cover of the woods and onto the road. They were familiar now, whereas the first few outings they had undertaken seasons ago had been more harrowing. They'd had scant little supplies or proper methods to set their traps, but they had to try. Demoralizing experiences, either getting turned around within the woods or having nothing to show for it when they returned to the others but a few injuries or lost supplies. Now, at least, they had grown more accustomed to the paths, to the woods and how to navigate through them best. While Sinaht had, hunt after hunt, only improved his aim with bow and arrow, the only thing Van could really boast was a better understanding of the landscape. That, and perhaps setting better traps than before at least. Still, the two worked in tandem and it simply felt safer to travel together rather than risk it alone.

Stepping onto the wider main road, still bracketed by tall trees, they continued on. Despite the relative ease with which the two walked, their eyes were keen and their ears ready to hear the slightest disturbance. The sound of a beast in comparison to that of another person moving through the trees was distinct, and they'd learned the prior was more preferred to deal with than the latter.

Fingers locked behind his head, Van tipped his head up, attention fixated on the distance, the view above the trees, above the high-walls barely visible, at the Bough of the Divine. When he was younger, it'd been something to hear about it existing, but since they'd arrived to Aiseryn, it'd felt almost surreal. The scale of it truly came across as dreamlike. A slight furrow of his brow, almost squinting as he regarded the almost hazy outline of it. Close, yet agonizingly far away, a landmark of divinity's fall kept out of reach for most. A cruel joke, he thought, to keep that distance and enforce it, to put up walls and rules and contain what should've been a place of open pilgrimage. What was the point to say one thing, and do another? To teach of the Ascended never having had a single temple, that he had walked the earth amid humanity, only to turn around and bar almost everyone from the place where he'd sacrificed himself. It didn't seem...right.

He snapped from his thoughts when his companion's footfalls sped up. Looking over to Sinaht, he doubled his pace to keep up with him. A moment of being perplexed at the sudden increase. Van let his gaze scan the trees that ran alongside the road, he paid closer attention to what sounds came to his pointed ear.

"What do you think?" Van asked, voice low enough for only Sinaht to hear him.

The other answered in kind, steadily, but barely audible. "Just one, but if it's a lookout we shouldn't linger."

Van barely nodded, imperceptive almost was the motion. "Right, then." A simple affirmation, trusting his friend's ear and instinct above his own. Falling to silence again, both boys kept their attention forward, though they moved with more swiftness.

Early morning it might've been, but they'd known well enough seasons ago, things that could bring you harm didn't always wait for nightfall.