Chapter Text
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Jornir awakens from his meditative state, his eye staring unblinkingly at the deep colored wood of the wall in his room. For a moment, he is unsure of what has awakened him. The rocking of the large ship with every pull and push of the ocean has been his constant companion for well over a year now.
Near the beginning, he had difficulties adjusting to this mode of travel. While not unfamiliar, he was more so used to traveling with his two feet, his connection to the land thrumming under the soles of his feet with each lumbering step. Here, the connection is muffled, nearly cut off, and in its absence left a deep, empty hole in his soul. However, as unpleasant as it was, this break from the land helps tamper the wavering dissonance that he’s been struggling with ever since he and his brethren started their pilgrimage across Avantris.
A bitter feeling burns in his throat at the thought, but Jornir swallows it down. Distantly, he’s aware of a presence steadily approaching him, and it is here that he realizes what had shook him from meditation.
Just as the figure coughs, Jornir speaks.
“What is it that you want, Barnabos?”
Turning his head, he looks back and sees the Triton standing a foot away from him. Seeing that he has his attention, Barnabos the Dreadwake gives him a razor sharp smile around his pipe.
“Sharp as ever, aye Mr. Jornir. I was gettin’ worried that you were slackin on me ship, an I’d be forced to give ye a right lashin’.”
Jornir hums and makes his way to stand. He towers over the Triton, as he does most creatures, but Barnabos simply tilts his head back to adjust, his stance and eyes showing that he isn’t intimidated in the slightest by his larger companion.
“I assure you that I would not dare while under your watchful eyes. I felt the call of my Gods, and I was compelled to hear them.”
Barnabos breathes in the burning Morley Flake from his pipe. “Any good news, perhaps?”
“No. They sent me more visions of the end. Of the corruption. If anything, whatever evil spreads across the lands has gotten stronger.”
Barnabos frowns. “Certainly you must ‘ave seen some good news, Mr. Jornir. We’ve been travelin’ for well over a year now. We’ve been able to reach all the places your visions have led us to, killin the corruption an’ savin all we can an’ bringin ‘em back to Mamut.”
“I wish I could give you better news, but I will not lie to you. My most recent vision has been the most troubling so far.”
“Penny for your thoughts then, Mr. Jornir? While I still have ye, that is.”
Jornir drifts his sight towards a flickering flame near his bedside. The bright orange and yellow flame dances on the wicker, casting fearsome shadows against the floor.
“The greedy roar of flames latch onto all that is living and consume them. It torches the earth black and leaves even stone brittle. I heard screams and I felt the fire cook my flesh… I know that I am being beckoned somewhere, but the exact location still eludes me. I have… forgotten something, I think,” Jornir says pensively.
“...Well, I can see how ye think things are gettin worse if yer’re dreamin all that. Best not to let it weigh you down too much. Tha’s the reason I came to ye now. Your cohort asked me to fetch you. I’m thinkin that they wish to know where we’re headed to next.”
Jornir nods and reaches for his heavy fur cloak and walking staff.
“I will make my way to them, then. I should have an answer for you when I am done speaking with them. In the meantime, let Queenie and Skrimm know that we should all talk about our next course of action tonight.”
Barnabos grunts. “Will do, Mr. Jornir. I’ll start makin some breakfast and gettin that skitterin’, loafin’ goblin to do some work for a change.”
Barnabos doesn’t wait for a reply as he leaves. A few minutes later, Jornir exits the comfort of his room and walks across the deck. Immediately, he’s hit with a strong gust of wind that smelled of salt and fish. It whips his crimson red hair across his pointed nose and cheek, and he feels the weight of his runes tapping against his neck and chest. The ship is not caught in a storm, but the weather isn’t pleasant. The sky is covered in a thick blanket of greyish white clouds. Rain drizzles lightly from them, but the droplets are so delicate that they turn into a wet mist, heavy and cumbersome hovering just above the water’s surface. Limited visibility would present a challenge for even the greatest and most experienced of captains, but Jornir trusts that Barnabos has more reliable methods of traversing the ocean than simply using his sight.
“Why, don’t you look grumpier than a hog without truffles. I’m guessin that your date with the ocean didn’t go so well?” a voice pointedly asks somewhere below him.
Jornir looks down and acknowledges the small rabbit folk hopping alongside him.
“What?”
Queenie March hops in front of him, prompting him to stop. She places one hand on her hip and tilts her head all the way back to look at him.
“You mentioned that you was goin to talk to the ocean about where we was goin or somethin. Seein that your frown is deeper than usual, I’m guessin that he told you more awful things or he rejected you. Please tell me that didn’t happen else I’m owin Skrimm my luckiest coin.”
Jornir blinks. “...Queenie, do you mean Odin?”
“Yeah, I know. That’s what I said.”
“No you did not- Nevermind,” Jornir states right as Queenie opened her mouth to argue with him. “I did not receive good news, no. I have told you before that rarely I get words but instead I am plagued with visions of what’s to come. I believe that this vision is attempting to direct our pilgrimage to our next location where more corruption festers. I am about to talk to my fellow druids to consult with them on where that location might be.”
Queenie taps her foot against the deck, a thoughtful frown gracing her furry face. Her nose twitches. “Your visions get stronger the closer we are to the next place, right?”
“That is correct.”
“Would you say that this vision was pretty strong?”
Jornir’s mind flashes to the vividness of the fire, the feeling of it searing his fur along with the screams near deafening in his ears. He represses a shudder.
“Very.”
Queenie claps her paws. “Then we must not be that far from where we need to go! Let me think, this ocean makes trackin a bit harder than usual, but if I’m right, and I’m sure that I am, there are a few places that are near here. We came from Nekhbet, which thank the Gods I was able to find a place to plant my seeds when we had the time to do so, and now we’re close to Karkinos.”
“While I hope you are right, Queenie, it will be difficult to narrow down a settlement when we have entire continents to consider.”
Queenie scoffs. “There aren’t that many. South of us is Astroza, and we’re headed towards Delphinus, and I guess after that there’s Drakkar and at that point we done rowed all the way around to Yona, give or take a few hundred thousand miles of water. Oh, and you can’t forget about Inari and Yulong-”
“Yes, Queenie, I am aware of our placement on the map,” Jornir states, more clipped than he would like.
Apparently, it’s more clipped than what Queenie would like as well, since she quickly responds with a stern stare.
“First of all, I am not a fan of that tone you just used, but I’ll let it slide since I know you’ve been havin a rough couple of nights, and second of all-”
“Jornir! Jornir! Can’t ya tell Barnabos to give me some peace for just one morning?! The man acts like the entire ship is gonna collapse into a shipwreck if a single thing is out of place!” Skrimm Stabbaskotch shrieks as he scurries over to Jornir’s leg, clutching it tight with his clawed hands. Jornir feels the goblin tremble against him, but the smallest creature calms down the moment he sees Queenie.
Skrimm pulls away from Jornir and saunters over to Queenie, a sharp grin plastered on his face as if he weren’t trembling with anxiety a few seconds ago. He drapes an arm around the rabbit born, needing to stand on the tips of his leather boots to do so.
“Queenie! My favorite… rabbity thing. Did ya ask Jornir what happened?”
Queenie leans away from Skrimm and crosses her arms. “Now Skrimm, you know that flattery won’t get you anywhere with me, unless you use the right words. And as a matter of fact, I did. You owe me your best coin.”
Skrimm’s smile promptly drops. “Aw, what!? I didn’t-That’s-I was betting on a different vision-”
Queenie lifts out a paw and holds it palm up, smirking at Skrimm slyly.
Skrimm slouches and digs into his worn pocket. “Fine. Here is, without a doubt, my luckiest coin.”
“An don’t try to weasel your way out by given’ me a copper piece or a bottle cap like ye did last time. You promised me gold, so I expect to see some on that coin.”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your ears in a twist,” Skrimm grumbles.
He pulls out a gold, albeit worn, piece. While Jornir stands half paying attention to their interaction, wondering why he was still standing there to begin with, his eye caught how, despite the bends and dirt covering it, the coin managed to glitter under the little sunlight that’s shown upon it.
Golden, shiny, glittering. Sparkling under the sun, and somehow soft under his hands. Past the fire, he saw the gold, but it didn’t melt. It only shined brighter, like chain mail within armor.
Or scales.
Jornir feels the puzzle piece click into place, and once he sees the full picture, he presses towards the stern of the ship, turning a deaf ear to his arguing companions. The distant sound of a bell ringing in his mind confirms what he knows to be true.
He needs to consult Fenrir, the eldest.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Taishen awakens from his restless sleep with a pain in his chest and the wind knocked right out of his lungs. He lurches up with a wheeze when a hefty weight crashes onto his vulnerable belly.
The golden Dragonborn swiftly rubs away his sleep as he is met with a handful of buttercup scales and chocolate brown hair pulled hastily into a tiny ponytail. Mei Li, his beloved and mischievous niece giggles maniacally, fisting her clawed hands in his white, sleep hanfu so she can bury her face into his chest.
“Uncle, Uncle! You were snoring Uncle!” she’s able to shout through each break in her laughter.
Hearing her cheerful laughter and excited continence drives away any unease that Taishen felt. He chuckles adoringly along with her. He lifts his clawed hand, still heavy from exhaustion, and squishes her cheek.
“I was? Oh dear, I must have been sleeping very deeply. Did I sound scary?”
His niece shakes her head, and her hair slips away from her ponytail.
“You weren’t scary, Uncle. You’re never scary. You sounded funny. You sounded like a-uh-”
“A bear?” Taishen asks.
“A pig! You made snorting sounds like a pig. It was so funny! But you also sounded… sad.”
Mei Li’s excited demeanor dims as she says this, her bright smile falling as she remembers why she came into Taishen’s room in the first place.
“I never heard you make those noises before. It reminded me of how I would sound some nights, when you would come to sit with me until I fell asleep again.”
Taishen’s smile falls as well. He does not recall what he dreamt, but even as he catches the faint edges of his dream, something in his mind recoils violently away, as if he were about to touch something sharp.
Instead, he smiles again and suddenly wraps his arms and tail around his niece. She shrieks with excited surprise when he buries his face into her stomach and snorts, like a pig.
“Uncle! Stop!” Mei Li laughs as she tries to squirm away.
“I am not Uncle. I am Uncle Pig. I think I found a nice apple, but perhaps it is a worm instead. It keeps trying to wiggle away,” Taishen says, now moving to tickle her underarms.
“Uncle Piggy! Uncle Piggy!”
Eventually, Taishen stops torturing his niece and pulls her into his lap. He brushes her hair back and over her shoulder, fixing it into a neat ponytail. His own cream colored hair falls over her face. Mei Li grasps onto his strands and fiddles idly with them.
“Are you still sad, Uncle?” she asks shyly.
Taishen gently tightens her ribbon. “No, Mei Li. Your light chased it away. Now, we can start the day right. Why don’t you prepare the table? I’ll start breakfast once I’m done getting ready.”
“Okay, Uncle!”
Mei Li gives her head a test shake, feeling the secureness of her ponytail. Once she’s satisfied, she runs out of Taishen’s room, her laughter leaving with her.
Taishen chuckles to himself and slowly makes his way out of bed. He opens a window and pokes his head out. The sun lies just below the farthest mountain. He can already feel its heat warm his face. Taishen sighs to himself, accepting that he woke up too late to do his morning training and promises himself to wake up earlier the next day to make up for what he lost.
Pulling his hair into a tight bun, Taishen fumbles through a drawer that has his ribbons. He picks one that’s long and silk with a color that reminds him of spider lilies and blush. He ties his hair, making sure that there aren’t any strands that will poke out of place.
He tightens the belt of his green and gold day robe before walking up to a small dresser. He kneels in front of it and tugs on the bronze handle bars. It opens, revealing a variety of items, including a tiny statue of Fu Zhao, a cup filled with rice, three cups of cold tea, and four paintings grouped into pairs. The two on top are his parents. The two below near the rice are his sister and brother in law.
With practiced hands, he replaces the tea cups with a fresh brew, a milky Oolong this time since he already made passionfruit for his parents a week prior. He lights three sticks of incense using a steady stream of his dragon’s breath and sticks them into the rice. Once everything is set, he claps his hands together and lowers his head.
“Fu Zhao, thank you for blessing this day with your light. I pray that you continue to watch over my family in heaven, and that their souls find each other in whatever life they are destined to. I pray that you continue to protect my niece, Mei Li, and help her grow into the kind, amazing young woman that she already is. I pray that you continue to watch over the Jade Shell village, and that we can continue to live in prosperity. I thank you, Fu Zhao, for your wisdom, grace, and warmth, and may your light grant me wisdom, strength, and balance.”
Taishen bows three times before slowly standing. He gives the altar one last small, warm smile before making his way to the kitchen.
The day passes by fairly uneventfully. After breakfast, Taishen and Mei Li head over to their private tea fields and pick the leaves that look ready to be harvested. Taishen, thankfully, remembers to wrestle a hat onto Mei Li's head, as she was still very young and her scales are not yet strong enough to protect her from the harsh early Autumn rays.
On their way back to the tea shop, Taishen waves at every Dragonborn he passes. They all wave back, equally excited to see him. When he notices Mei Li start lagging behind him, he scoops her up and places her on his shoulders. She grabs onto his horns, more energized now that she doesn’t have to walk, and Taishen easily picks up the baskets of tea leaves, two in each hand.
They run the tea shop together, receiving very generous donations, including some fresh produce, a new set of kitchen knives, a cute butterfly comb for Mei Li from Wen, and expertly made tonfas for Taishen from Suyong.
Soon enough, the sun dips below the mountain, and Taishen begins to close shop so he can prepare dinner for him and his niece. He sends her up early so she can wash up. As he’s sweeping under the tables of his shop, he hears his door open and close.
Confused that someone would be visiting him at this time, Taishen raises his head and is greeted to the sight of Jiong nervously wringing her hands. Her scales are a duller color than usual, appearing almost ashlike under the orange light of his shop. Her teal blue eyes nervously flick over to him and she hunches over herself further.
“I’m terribly sorry, Taishen. I-I know that you are now closed, but I’ve been busy all day with family matters and I desperately need to talk to someone-”
“Jiong, please, there’s no need for panic,” Taishen says softly. He leans his broom against a chair and walks up to her. Gently taking her hands in his, he looks up at her narrow, pinched face and smiles reassuringly.
“At the Sereni-Tea, there’s always a seat reserved for a friend in need.”
He leads her to a seat and quickly prepares her a simple cup of plum leaf. The moment she sips it, her shoulders relax and a small smile graces her delicate features.
“It’s as delicious as always.”
“Thank you, but please, Jiong, tell me what is the matter. I know that you’ve been concerned about your son for a while, but this fear that you have feels different. You are as pale as a ghost.”
The timid smile crumbles as quickly as it appeared. She curls her hands tighter around the teacup, her claws clinking against the ceramic edges.
“...There have been whispers, Taishen, that something bad will come to our village.”
There is a weight to Jiong’s words, one that shifts her tone into something deeper and steadier. Taishen automatically laughs, but it falls flat when nervousness shakes his voice.
“Whispers? Who has been whispering?”
“Chunho and Wen, mostly. Normally, many of us wouldn’t be too concerned over their fears as they tend to ramble once every decade, but things are different this time… Autumn has come much earlier than usual. We have less of Fu Zhao’s light this year.”
“That does not mean that we have less of his protection. And sometimes the weather shifts and falls out of pattern. That’s nothing too unusual,” Taishen says.
Jiong looks up from her tea cup.
“Have you truly not felt anything different, Taishen? Out of all of us, you are the most connected to Fu Zhao’s light. You would sense if something was amiss.”
Taishen stops sipping his tea.
Snow dances across his eyes, appearing like petals from the sky. It starts off soft, but soon grows harsher and cutting, appearing more like knives raining down on their village. They are sharp enough that it cuts through his scales. He swears that he sees blood dripping down each new wound. Is it blood? No. It’s certainly red, but it flutters and twists in the air like cloth. He isn’t sure how he feels about it. He’s scared, he thinks, but it doesn’t feel out of place.
He hears screams, and an icy hand squeezes his heart when he recognizes the voice of Mei Li as one of them.
As steadily as he can, he places the tea cup onto the table and folds his hands on his lap.
“I am sure everything is fine. You are right to be stressed over the changing season, but try not to let Chunho, Wen, or anyone else blind you with fear.”
Jiong doesn’t look as reassured as he hoped, but she gifts him with a wane smile.
“If there is anything burdening you, Taishen, you should tell us. You are our friend, just as much as we are yours.”
Taishen nods. “I know. Lately I have been plagued with strange dreams, but this month is difficult for me and Mei Li… It is the anniversary.”
“... I am sorry,” Jiong says softly. She reaches out and pats his arm so gently, as if one wrong move will break him.
Taishen swallows back his tears and he forces a smile.
“I have long accepted that this pain will never leave, but it should not haunt Mei Li as it haunts me. I fear that opening this wound will stop it from closing, and she needs me to be strong.”
“You are strong, Taishen. I am sorry for burdening you with more troubles-”
Taishen rubs his cheek and wipes away any wetness that he catches, shaking his head. “Do not apologize, Jiong. My grief would have long since drowned me if it wasn’t for you and the village. We are here for each other, as we always will be. Even if your fears are real, we will not be alone. We will face our destined challenges and be stronger at the end, just as Fu Zhao teaches us.”
This brings a real smile to Jiong’s face. “You are right, Taishen. Thank you for your wise and kind words.”
“And thank you for your companionship, my friend.”
Eventually, Jiong leaves and Taishen heads up the stairs of his shop to his living quarters. He prepares Mei Li’s favorite foods and they both get ready for bed. He reads her a story about three brothers fighting over who was the best one, only to discover that by working together, they were stronger than if they were apart. He tucks Mei Li under her blanket, kisses her on the forehead, and bids her goodnight.
“Uncle?”
Taishen stops closing the door. His shadow covers his niece’s tiny form huddled in her bed. “Yes, Mei Li?”
“...Will you visit them this month?” she asks timidly.
“...Yes. I will be gone for a few days. I promise I will be back by sunset-”
“Can I come with you this time?”
“...Are you sure?”
“I want to see them.”
“...We will need to leave early. Can you do that?”
“Mphm.”
“...Okay. I will let you know when we will leave, and we can prepare for the trip together. We can bring your favorite snacks.”
“Even the sugar dried orange blossoms?”
Taishen laughs softly. “As long as you don’t eat too many.”
Mei Li yawns and snuggles into her pillow. “Thank you, Uncle Pig. I love you.”
“...I love you very much, Mei Li. Wux re sia gra'kul.”
Taishen closes the door and heads towards his room. Mechanically, he changes into his sleep wear and unties his hair. It falls on his shoulders, the smooth texture of his ribbon drawing him back to reality. He delicately holds it in his claws, the fabric caressing his scales. The color hypnotizes him, contrasting greatly against the gold of his scales, but the longer he stares at the rich crimson, the more lost he feels.
Placing the ribbon on the desk near his bed, Taishen blows out the flame in his candle and slides into his bed. Curling on his side, he squeezes his eyes shut and prays for a good night’s rest, one without visions haunting him of the past.
Tears, unbidden now that he is completely alone, fall freely down his cheeks as he finally sobs the pain that has weighed on him for many years, but feels heaviest when Fu Zhao’s light starts to dim. His night is dreamless, but the cost of his wish, one that he will not know until many days later, is one that he will be forced to pay with more than he was ever willing to give.