Chapter 1: Flamefade

It is the eve of Flamefade, the autumnal equinox. With the fields laid bare and winter's grasp still distant, all of Arras gathers in joyous celebration of the harvest festival. Folks from even the most outlying farms have made their way here.

Sunset is still a an hour or two away. The wind is pleasant, bordering on chilly, but warmth is found both by the roaring bonfire and in the stock of Galthic's cellar. Children race about the village green and dance around the fires. Older youths, past their naming ceremony, help out where they can or sneak off to get drunk and steal a kiss or two. Market stalls overflow with fruits, greens and all the bounty of the harvest. Little effigies of the goddess Kimra sway in the breeze, made from sheafs of wheat, corn and barley.

Dathana Arborine's famed ciders draw much appreciation, and as she chats up Galthic her partner Charina keeps a hand firmly gripped around her arm, not letting her get too far away. The Corwyns have emerged from Moonspindle Books, if only for a short while, and do their best not to show how much they'd rather be curled up by their hearth with a good book. To find Evelyn Oakroot, always something of a curiosity in Arras, one only has to follow the enrapturing scent of her freshly baked bread and honey cakes. Rolf Miller sits alone by the fire, quietly nursing some mulled wine and smiling as his children dance and holler. Harl has given up on pestering Norn about the make and history of his greatsword, and both men now chug some ale to get through the awkward silence.

For Gaelan Weir though, tonights awkwardness has only begun. Though it can hardly be called a secret, since just about everone knows by this point, tonight is when his recent betrothal will be officially announced...

The past days have been busy for Lirann. Her family being farmers, they take the worship of Kimra seriously and are heavily involved with the festivals preparations. Whenever she thought she might finally finish the endless chores, her mother would send Lirann on yet another errand. With the day finally here, she is mercifully relived of her duties.

She was never the most sociable person and crowded festivities are not her forte. She has found herself a spot away from the busiest part of the village. Lounging on some hay bales, she snacks on a honey cake while observing the festivities from a distance. Finally she has some time to muse over what transpired in the forest recently. That thing that attacked them, she is sure it is still around. If only there was some one to talk about it. Gaelan would have been an obvious choice for that, but he was busy getting married or something. Besides him, the only person around to confide to would be the old hag Anathema. Not even an option at the best of times.

Lirann takes another bite from her cake. It is very tasty, The festival is not all bad she supposes.

Thalen walks out the door of his parents' shop, straightens his cloak, and locks the door behind him. The warmth of the last few weeks has finally broken, and Thalen smiles as a cool breeze moves about him, causing the tails of his cloak to flutter. While normally, he would be looking for a place to set up and earn a few coins, tonight Thalen just wants to find a comfortable seat by a fire, a flagon of Dathana's cider, and some good friends to while the hours away with.

Crossing the village common, Thalen approaches the stall selling a famous brew, plunks a few coins upon the roughshod wood, and picks up his mug. He scans the gathering crowd.

A group of younglings approach: "Mr. Thalen, are you going to be telling stories tonight?" They smile and look up expectantly.

Thalen kneels down to look at them eye to eye. "I don't think so, young ones. Very sorry, but I am just here to enjoy the festival."

One girl with dusty, blonde hair pushes out her bottom lip.

Thalen nods. "I know, I know. But I promise that you will still have fun. You don't want to listen to stories when there are so many other activities that you could be doing." He stands up and shoos the children. "Go on now, go have yourself some fun."

They run off, the flicker of the fires shining on their faces. One boy turns back and waves. "Bye, Mr. Thalen!"

Thalen returns the wave. He walks over to one of the fires and finds a solid-looking stump to sit on. He sips his cider, waves to his parents, and immerses himself in the sights, sounds, and smells of Flamefade.

Ophira stands alone in the mushroom filled glade, a small flat stone in front of her. Arrayed upon the stone are a series of offerings to Kimra, as well as the Mother, that she has crafted--a pinecone carved to resemble a mighty pine, a crown of autumnal leaves, a piece of amber, a ripe apple, and a beeswax candle carved with Ophira's secret wishes, slowly melting away. After she has completed her ceremony, she bows, ceremonially clear the altar, offering the items back to nature, blows out the candle and waves the smoke across the altar, and then sprinkles the stone with salt to cleanse it. She completes her autumnal ceremony with a mindful walk back to the village, enjoying all that the autumn woods have to offer.

When she arrives, she perks up, accepts a flagon of cider, and join the children in a dance. She waves to her childhood friend Thea, offering her a hug when given the chance. She smiles at Thalen, a good friend ever since the tow of them caught those Northern spies together. She spends some time visiting with Beric as well, though she sees him often. And when she sees Gaelan, she makes sure to stop by. They sometimes ran into each other in the glade that they both love and the two have become friends. But Ophira knows he has an especially big night tonight!

Gaelan's arm troubled him for some days after the thing in the woods grabbed it. It's grip had been ice cold and like iron; the strapping young man was glad that there were no further sightings of the death-touched thing after that. And so when the scar on the fisherman's arm became faint, Weir began working with purpose. For his parents, for the village, for those who needed any sort of help for the celebration. Boxes were moved, a low stage built, dozens of casks and barrels carried into place.

There was no shortage of need for laborers, and so Gaelan kept busy... keeping his mind off not just the thing in the woods, but the far more terrifying prospect of pending nuptials. He didn't know this Miller girl, not really. They'd met, of course, perhaps exchanged measuring glances the way teen girls and boys do, but now they--they were betrothed.

Weir's heart ached as he worked. He longed for something more in life than hauling nets and emptying weirs. And milling was not that something more. Tales told to him by Thalen and others made the muscular youth's spirit soar, tales of knights and dragons, of damsels and castles and spells and jousting tourneys. Those thoughts danced in his head as the day wore on, and as more and more people gathered for the harvest festival.

Avoiding his parents and every member of the Miller family, Gaelen continues to work behind the scenes for anyone who still needs help. He sees Lirann at one point and merely nods a hello. Thalen he spies, but does not approach--the popular young man is busy entertaining well before the sun has even gone down.

Gaelan's eyes linger on Ophira when they find her. He normally finds the apprentice easy to talk to and to look upon, but not today. Today a cloud lingers above his head, dampening his mood and his expression. Then the calls come--more wine! Another cartful of animal feed! Wood and tools to repair the door on the church after it was damaged by boisterous children.

If the man could shrink to nothing tonight, he would. But be can't, so he remains a shadow in the background, a villager intent on anything but celebration.

If there's a party in Arras, you can be sure that Thea Wildheart will be there! And Flamefade is one of the biggest parties of the year. The strong heroine who once wrestled a bear into submission makes her rounds around the village square, shaking hands, patting backs, and downing the plethora of free drinks shoved into her hands by smiling well-wishers.

Glancing around as the time of the festival approaches, Thea sees her childhood friends slowly beginning to join the crowd. She gives Lirann and Thalen nods from across the way. She returns Ophira's wave, quickly making her way over to embrace her in a too-tight hug. "Ophira! How is the old witch treating you these days? Working you like a dog, as usual?" she laughs.

As they chat, Thea glimpses Gaelen lurking nearby. She favors him with a knowing smile before retuning her attention to Ophira.

Beric wanders through the festival, taking in the sights and sounds. Nok sits on his shoulder, also looking about. When the smell of Evelyn's sweet breads drifts by, Nok croaks Cake, cake. Beric chuckles. "Patience, Nok. We'll get there."

A few moments later, Beric sees Galen alone on the edge of the activity, looking pensive. He walks over to his old friends and gives him a clasp on the shoulder. "You look like you could use a cider. Want me to fetch you one? And perhaps one of Oakroot's honey cakes?"

Cake! Nok croaks.

"Hush, Nok. You'll get yours."

Gaelen can't help but grin and return his friend's clasp--doubly firm with his meaty hands.

"Beric, it is good to see you! And Nok too," the fisherman says. He doesn't stink of eel tonight, and that took some scrubbing. "Thea is here too, and all the others as well, I think."

Village kids who were of and age tended to stick together... but now, they were nearly adults.

"A cider and honey cakes would be grand," Weir adds. "But I'll go with--I have coin of my own, you know."

Ophira notices the shadow behind Gaelan's eyes. She considers approaching him to see if he needs to talk, but it feels presumptuous to do so. they were friends, to be sure, but Gaelan and she had never been confidantes. And as if on cue, Beric appears near Gaelan, looking to cheer him up. Satisfied, Ophira turns to see, and be embraced by, Thea.

She replies to Thea's questions, saying, "Oh yes, strict as ever! Although..." she hesitates, a note of concern coming into her voice. She continues, saying, "Something is off with her lately. I don't know what. I've seen some unusual things in the wood, Thea, and Ana had some kind of ...episode a few days ago. I'm worried, if I'm being perfectly honest."

Then, making a conscious decision not to dwell on such things at the festival, she sets it aside and says, "Well enough about that strange old bird. How are you, Thea Wildheart? Plan to drink any more boys under the table tonight? Or maybe tonight you'll find one to do more than drink with, eh?"

Thalen sees his friends congregating. I should probably say hi. From behind a woman's skirts, Thalen sees the same girl from before--dusty blonde hair--peaking out every once in a while. She smiles at Thalen and then hides again.

Thalen curls a finger towards her. "Come here."

She looks up to her mother who has seen the exchange. She nods. The little girl wanders slowly over, her hands behind her back. She looks down at the ground.

"What is your name?"

"Liora." She moves her feet in the dirt.

"Liora! That is beautiful. You are very lucky to have such a name."

Liora looks up and smiles. "It means light!"

"Yes, it does." Thalen nods. He rubs his beard. "Well, Liora, I know I said that I wasn't planning on telling stories, but I feel a telling of the Song of the Last Dragon-King building up inside of me." He looks around. "Why don't you go run and gather up your friends so they can hear the tale."

Liora claps and jumps up and down. "Yes, sir, Mr. Thalen." She spins and runs away.

Thalen looks up at her mother, who mouths, Thank you.

As the small group of friends gradually join up, the evening air begins to slowly fill with music and laughter. Children bob for apples in wide wooden tubs and troughs, chase each other around or pillage the overburdened communal tables. A handful of them wrestle roughly out of their parents' sight, with one enterprising child having dragged a pelt out of some home and draped himself in it. Judging by the grunts and roars he makes, it seems they're play-acting one of Wildheart's most famous deeds. However, anyone young Liora so much as brushes past seem to drop whatever they are doing. Very swiftly a small congregation of eager listeners start to swarm near Thalen.

__________


After much cajoling from his children, Rolf Miller picks up his lute and strums up a tune. Though he can often seem quite dour and weary on his visits to town, tonight his mood is more in line with everyone else's. Once or twice, his daughter Theda throws an uncertain glance in the direction of their friend group, perhaps towards one in particular. But she makes no attempt to get within speaking distance. Instead, she busies herself by dancing with her youngest brother, the two of them merely silhouettes against the crackling bonfire.

__________


Lirann hears the creaking of old legs before she hears the reedy voice. "My oh my, it seems my favorite spot has been taken already. Hmpf! Oh well, I suppose it couldn't hurt to get a little closer to the festivities." Ada, Beric's grandmother, likely the oldest person in Arras, hobbles over next to Lirann, leaning on her walking cane, perhaps a little too theatrically.
Grandmother Weaver, most call her. The children tell almost as many scary stories about her as they do Anathema, but to Beric's friends she's a familiar face. She gives a sly, toothless smile and cackles, a low, breathy sound as she leans forward. "Just as well. Eyes're getting worse every year. I can just about tell where the big fire's at. But... they still have a little use left in 'em. You're the Cormick girl, aren't you?"

Lirann nods back at the others, not really interrupting her pondering. The old lady finally stirs her from her thoughts. It is mildly annoying, but Lirann does her best to not let it show.

"I am indeed. Lirann is the name in case it matters." She answers, a bit vexed at Ada for not knowing her name by now. "I don't mind surrendering this spot to you." She continues while getting up. "I probably ought to go and see what everyone is up to anyways."

Gaelan and Beric have only started in on their cider and cake when they spot Aidan from across the bonfire. Gaelan's father appears frazzled, looking around the crowd until his gaze falls squarely on Gaelan. He gestures towards the two of them with a calloused hand, its meaning quite clear; we need to talk.

__________


"Oh, that's very kind of you, my dear. Lirann? That's right. Forgive this old crone, the memory's as bad as the eyes, I'm afraid. Oh, and if you see my grandson, tell him I wish he would come by more often. I swear..."

It lasts only for the briefest moment. Like a shadow sweeping over the sky, all light dims around them. At the very edge of perception, Lirann senses something both strange and familiar, a presence reeking of incense and gravedirt, lingering at the edge of the village. Something she has not felt since that fateful night at the old graveyard, when she and Beric nearly paid with their lives for that accursed crown.

"...you'd have thought he might've learned a trade from that Weir boy, but no, instead he spends every day over at that young lady's house, tending her pets and..." Ada continues, apparently unaware of what Lirann noticed.

Gaelan and Beric

It's been some days since Gaelan has had time alone with his good friend, so he's not yet told him about his experience with Lirann and the Thing in the woods near the glade. But before he can discuss the matter, his father has found him.

"I'm neglecting my family," he says quietly as he starts making his way towards Aidan Weir. Then, lower, to himself he adds, "And my betrothed."

Gaelan's eyes find Theda on that walk over to his father, and his cheeks flush. A torrent of emotions swirl within the man, but he does not outwardly show most of them. If the Miller girl looks over, he will nod and hold her gaze... otherwise he will see what his father has to say.

"Alright, but remind your father that this is a festival," Beric says to Gaelen as he departs.

Beric looks around to see where he might wander next and sees his grandmother talking to Lirann - whether Lirann wants to or not. Beric smiles to himself and then heads over to resuce his friend.

On his way over, he thinks maybe the world dims briefly. He looks up, wondering if a shadow of some kind passed overhead, but nothing. Maybe he imagined it.

"HI, Gran Gran," he says when he arrives. "Glad to see you made it out to the festivities." Then to Lirann, "I hope my grandmother is behaving herself." He smiles, but senses that perhaps more than just his grandmother is bothering Lirann. "You should come try one of Oakroot's new salted honeycakes. They're surprisingly good." He gives Lirann a quick wink, hoping she picks up on the fact that he's trying to rescue her from his grandmother.

Braced for Nok to say "cake" again, Beric is surprised when the crow does not. Maybe he sensed the same strangeness that Beric did.

"...Yes..Yes..." Lirann mumbles in response to the old woman's ramblings. She is too distracted with the ominous presence to humor her any more than that.

She briefly acknowledges Beric with a nod. "Yes...Yes.. We should do that." She says in response to his suggestion, not so much picking up on his intentions, but just absentmindedly nodding along.
It takes her another second to snap out of her stupor. "Right. Yes. I heard they are really good." She finally responds in a more coherent way. She gives the old lady a friendly smile. "If you'll excuse us, we ought to try those cakes. Now don't stay out here for too long, the night will get chilly soon." She says to Ada, not unkind in her demeanor.

As they are about to leave, she casts a glance towards the edge of the village where she can feel the unwelcome presence. In her mind she utters a million curses before turning away.

Thea snorts with laughter. "Ha! They should be so lucky! I'm still waiting for the right person to come along who can match me for brawn and bravery. I'm beginning to fear that the dating pool in this village is too shallow for my tastes. Mayhaps I'll need to broaden my horizons!"

She smiles at the children re-enacting her mighty deeds, munching happily on a sweet cake.

Gaelan

In the middle of dancing with her little brother, Theda's eyes meet Gaelan's across the crowd. She pauses, mid-step, holding his gaze. Her brother pulls impatiently on her wrists to resume. For a moment, it seems she might break away and head over to him, now that he is not surrounded by friends. However, Aidan makes his way towards Gaelan and blocks the view between them. By the time Gaelan manages to glance past him, Theda is back to dancing, if perhaps a little half-heartedly.

"There you are! Been keeping busy I hear. Everyone I've talked to had seen you at some point, but nobody could tell me where to find you." Usually quite composed, Gaelan's father is a practical, down-to-earth voice both at home and at Stone Hall gatherings. Right now though, his face—as rough and leathery as an old shoe—is drawn tight with worry. Despite the evening chill, he seems to be sweating noticeably.

"I needed to- I mean, we need to talk... I know this isn't..." Aidan trails of a little as he looks his son up and down. He takes a few gulps of air, and when he speaks his voice has steadied a bit. "Look, Gael, I know this might not be how you imagined things would turn out. The Miller girl, she's... it's the best match anyone could hope for. Your mother and I—your mother especially—worked hard to make this happen."

He pauses. With a hand scarred from years of working the nets, he scratches nervously at his chin as he looks over towards the bonfire. "Just earlier tonight, I had to talk Rolf down, he was about to call off the whole thing. The betrothal, the announcement tonight, all of it. Said we had pushed him into this, that his... that Ida never would have agreed to it. I managed to get it sorted, but..." He glances over where Rolf Miller had sat just before. Now his empty lute rested against the chair. "Please. Son. I know your heart might not be into this, not yet. But, for your mother's sake, just don't give him a reason. Show him the very best side of our family."

---

Lirann & Beric

"Oh there you are, boy! Yes, yes, of course, go and enjoy the festivities, I'll just take a seat here for a while. You know..." Even as she waves the pair off, her idle small-talk trails behind them as they leave, until the cacophony of the crowd subsumes it. As they walk, Nok turns his head in the same direction as Lirann, towards the outskirts of the village. But says nothing. Whatever presence briefly streaked across Lirann's senses, she can't feel anything right now. However, Beric notes that the sounds of horses and oxen in the nearby stables have grown agitated and restless, and several small rats scurry past them, away from the village edge.

---

Ophira & Thea

Harl somehow manages to disentangle himself from his stilted conversation with Norn. The smith gives an uncharacteristically enthusiastic wave towards Ophira and Thea and hurries over. "Ah, you two. Hope you're enjoying the evening. I- er, I trust the axe I made you serves you well, Wildheart?" He glances over to where Norn stood, but the weathered old man seems to have made himself scarce.

---

Thalen

"The Last Dragon-King? A fitting choice for the evening, I must say." Elder Caitrina's voice carries easily over the throng of over-excited children gathering around Thalen. The most junior of the three members of Arras council since Rolf Miller stepped down, she easily stands out in the crowd. Her elegant, fur-lined green cloak, intricately embroidered dress and even a few pieces of jewelry all show her as one of the most well-off virgaters in the Arras. The children quiet down at her arrival, but are still visibly buzzing with excitement. She gives a wide smile towards the young storyteller. "I was preparing a few announcements, but I suppose I could hold off a few moments more. I'd hate to see disappointment mar their faces."

Ophira giggles a bit at Thea's response and says, "I don't blame you. The pool is shallow indeed here, even for those of us who do not favor a specific gender! We both need to venture out if we are to find someone good enough for the likes of us, yeah? I mean, look at us!" She laughs again.

When Harl approaches, Ophira listens to his request and leaves him to Thea. She turns and scans the crowd around her, curious about how the others are faring.

"Something spooked the animals," Beric says to Lirann as he watches a rat scurry by. Quieter, he says, "I'm not a student of the mystic, but I thought I felt something strange a moment ago. Something not quite natural? Maybe. Did you notice anything?"

The crowd of children sits upon the ground, the glow from the fire flickers on their faces. Adults gather behind them in a semi-circle; all are enrapt in the tale. Some smile, some stare open-mouthed. Thalen weaves his story, one he has told many times. His cloak whips as he uses his hands and arms to accentuate his point.

Long was the war, through fire and ash and broken stone.
At last the Dragon-King fell upon the mountain slopes,
his vast body sprawled where rivers would one day run.
His bones became the hills, his blood the fertile soil,
yet still we sing of him, and remember his fury-drenched cry.

Thalen waits a pause, hands uplifted, allowing the end of the story to hang upon the air before taking his bows. He smiles at the children as they thank him and shakes hands with some of their parents before sliding out of the firelight and walking over to Harl, Ophira, and Thea. Always a good time to talk to the curmudgeonly blacksmith.

Gaelen had intended for Beric to accompany him over to see his father... to have some support, a familiar crutch to lean on if the conversation turned awkward--as it surely would. He couldn't blame the man for bolting, though, and it was with a bit of envy that the big, broad-shouldered youth watched his friend go.

He catches Theda's look briefly before his father starts in, and Gaelen can't quite sort out the feelings that surge in his chest, the butterflies that loop in his belly. Is it fear? Excitement? Attraction? Pure terror as the rest of his life looks back at him?

Aidan's avalanche of worried words buries all that. As surely as the man blocks Gaelan's view of the girl he is somehow supposed to marry, so too do his words pelt and unbalance his son. Gael loves his father, but the elder Weir is on edge, off his game. There is much at stake from his perspective, which of course is whole reason why his son is so quiet, so pensive.

As the fisherman speaks, Gaelan can't help but look around at the festivities. There's joy and comfort in Arras tonight, from the cheers over Thalen's storytelling to the quiet conversation Beric and Lirann are having. Then there's Ophira and Thea laughing, and that sets the tall man's mind reeling. Unresolved feelings swirl and leave Gaelan a bit lost as he father looks to him, expecting him to respond.

"Why is... Rolf so against it?" he hears himself say. "Does he think so little of fisherfolk? Does... does Theda think that way, too?"

Thea & Thalen

Harl nods towards Thalen as he approaches. "Ah, thought I heard your voice, lad. Keeping the little ones happy and out of my shop, I trust? Speaking of, smithy's a real mess these days." For someone like Harl, that's about as close to a warm invitation as anyone has ever gotten.

---

Gaelan

Aidan grimaces at the question, and when he speaks, it is with a stubborn sense of pride that Gaelan knows well. "Maybe. Perhaps that is part of it. I know we don't have much, not compared to someone like him. But our roots here go back far. And I think..." Aidan looks around, cautiously lowering his voice, though nobody seems to pay them much mind. "The kids are all he has left after Ida. Your mother and he, you know, they're old friends, they go far back, since they were younger than you. I think that's the reason she was able to persuade him, when nobody else succeeded. He's just... protective. He needs to see that you're a good match for his girl."

Aidan stands a little straighter, his voice grows steadier. "And I know you can do this. You're going to go far, much farther than I ever could. Show them both what I see. The boy who impressed Sir Vanion enough to take him under his wing. The boy who, when the need was great, grabbed his axe and headed into the wilds, heedless of danger." It looks like there's more he wants to say, but instead his eyes are drawn towards the center of the crowd, where a few farmhands are arranging a makeshift stage. "Blight take me, I thought we'd have more time."

---

Everyone


Once Thalen has concluded his song, and attention once again begins to drift, Caitrina takes to the stage hastily assembled near the largest bonfire. Flanked by the other two council members, she spreads her arms wide and ensures as many eyes are on her as possible before she begins to speak.

"Arras! Dearest friends, young and old, whether born here or by a fortuitous road lead here. Come closer, hear my words. I bid you welcome to this years Flamefade." The speech is a familiar one, given every year with only some variation. While some adults draw close, others, mainly the younger ones, take the opportunity to slink away, blessedly free of parental oversight. Caitrina extols the virtues of the farmers, praises the bountiful harvest of the past year, but also cautions everyone to look out for each other. She makes mention of the brigands that have been sighted in the wilds, though Thea and Thalen notice that she never mentions anything of Sigwald's Red Men.

The speech is quite a long one, and as it reaches some sort of midpoint, Gaelan feels his father give him a firm nudge. Rolf is already leading Theda towards Caitrina. "And on a lighter note, I have the privilege of announcing some happy news." The councilwoman waves a hand towards Gaelan, bidding him to come up to join her.

Thea carefully removes the finely crafted axe from its harness and holds it before her. "It is a marvel, Harl! The balance is perfect, and its edge is razor-sharp! It is a fine companion to the sturdiest shield in the village! Thank you again."

She grabs another sweet cake and munches on it as she stands towards the back of the ground and listens to the elder's speech.

"Yes I did." Lirann responds to Beric with a heavy sigh. "I will deal with that later." She says, not clarifying what she means with that.

She looks on to the crowd gathering for the speech, having no inclination to join them though. "Let us check up on those animals."

Thalen smiles at Harl and gives him a playful punch. "Ah, you old softy." He looks at Thea as she walks away and grabs a sweet cake. "I would be happy to come visit, and I bet I could convince Thea to stop by with me. You know I am not as useful when it comes to physical labor, but I am always happy to chat with a friend." He looks towards the crowd gathering around Elder Caitrina, readying themselves for her speech. "Just say the word, and you know we would both be there." Thalen places a hand on Harl's shoulder. "We love you, Harl, like family. I'd best get closer so I can listen to the speech. Happy Flamefade, Harl." Thalen approaches the group and wraps his cloak around to protect against the wind.

Ophira quickly grows bored of the honeyed words and hot air and finds her way to the edge of the crowd, where she can acquire a cider and enjoy it in relative peace. She sits on a raised stone fence, giving her a view over the crowd, her legs crossed in front of her. She surveys the crowd, the beautiful evening, and the stars above. She finds herself entranced by the night sky.

The nudge sends Gaelan into motion. He feels sick to his stomach and wishes he had even a single friend nearby who might offer up a reassuring nod, but lacking that--he heads for the platform. Instead, he risks a look at Theda, uncertain if it will feel worse if he's looking right at him... or if she isn't!

As Thalen and Thea heads away from Harl, the blacksmith gives a—possibly quite embarrassed—grunt that seems to say that yes, he would like a friendly visit sometime soon. Then he looks around, makes sure nobody saw that moment of weakness, and blends into the crowd to hear the speech.


Caitrina welcomes the two youths to stand next to her. As Theda Miller takes her place, she keeps throwing glances towards her father. Her face is guardedly neutral, but grows flushed with red as her and Gaelan's eyes meet past the elder between them. She nods and mouths something vaguely like 'hi' towards him, but then her face is obscured by Caitrina's flowing cloak as the councilwoman raises her hands skywards.

"In trying times such as these, the delicate threads that tie our community together are more important than ever." The wind picks up, whipping and tugging at the hem of Caitrina's cloak as she speaks. "And so tonight, I have been given the privilege of announcing..."

As Lirann and Beric move away from the crowd, the wind shifts. Through the heavy wood-smoke of the bonfire it is hard to detect, but now they pick up a different scent, sharp and acrid, coming not from the open fires, but from Galthic's inn next to them.
Thalen glances aside from the speech, and his gaze fall on an open window of the inn. At first his eyes tell him it is merely a candle flickering in the breeze, but then he sees tongues of yellow flame dancing hungrily, spreading quickly over the walls and ceiling.

Before anyone can react, a scream cuts through the chill evening air, from somewhere within the inn. Then more screams, spreading out into the crowd as more and more heads turn from the elder's speech. "Fire!" someone shouts. "Galthic's is burning!" cries another. "There's people in there!"
Panic breaks out among the assembled masses, parents shouting for their children, people being knocked over in the frenzy to get away from the inn. A few level heads try—valiantly, but in vain—to organize a group to fetch water from the river and the well. Elder Caitrina's voice, like the other councilor's, are lost in the cacophony.

Thalen jumps up on the stage, flourishes his cloak, and raises his hands high in the air. "Good people of Arras! We have an emergency." He points at Harl. "Harl, could you please round up the children and take them to a safe distance?" He then points to several parents of the children who were listening to his story. "We need buckets, and we need to create a line from the well to the inn. If we all work together, we can put out this fire."

As soon as she notices the fire, Lirann rushes towards the open window and peeks inside.

"Is there anyone in here? Come quickly!" She shouts, ready to assist anyone who tries to exit the building through the window.

"Nok! Go fetch the witch, Beric shouts to the crow, hoping the witch may have magic that can help.

Then Beric runs to the door of the inn and flings it open if it isn't already. He surveys the situation, looking for anyone that he might be able to help and listening for any responses to Lirann's call.

Gaelan’s world, already swirling around him in stomach-churning fashion, tilts further when the flames—and cries—go up from the inn! He holds Theda’s gaze just for a moment, then rather absurdly says, "I have to go!" before he takes off, racing towards the burning building.

Upon reaching it, the man will not hesitate. He intends to burst inside and search for anyone needing help, following the screams.

With a flutter of wings and a loud caw, Nok takes off into the sky. As Beric pulls the door open, a gust of hot air flows over him as bright orange light spills out onto the village square, melding with the light cast by the bonfire.

Chaos spreads among the villagers. Children cry, clinging tight to their parents. Those who have fallen to the ground are in danger of being trampled by those trying to put distance between themselves and the fire.

But Thalen's steady words cuts through the din. The storyteller's familiar voice causes people to stop mid-step. In the brief pause that occurs, Harl is the first to speak. "Aye!" The smith motions towards a group of children and begins leading them away. "You lot, to the Stone Hall with you!"

Several adults and youths look uncertainly between Harl and Thalen, then hurry towards the well, grabbing others along the way. Though fear still reigns, small pockets of organization starts forming in the crowd, following Thalen's lead.

Lirann peers inside, squinting through the heat and smoke to try and get a good view. The bar where Galthic usually stands serving his drinks is fully ablaze, trails of fire snaking from the stairs leading into the cellar and up over the railing and stairs to the second floor.

As if in response to her call, there's a crash as a dark shape comes tumbling down the stairs from the second floor. A man, draped in bedding, crashes to the floor and looks around wildly. When he sees the open door, he struggles out of the now burning bedcloth and stumbles unsteadily forward. Beric grasps his hand and pulls him through the door just as Gaelan barrels past, heading into the inferno.

Once he's out, they quickly recognize him as Holt Birkner. One of the farmers with a house on the outskirts of the village, neighboring Lirann's family's farm. Burn marks glisten on his arms and face. Every desperate gasp for air triggers horrible coughing. But he is out of the fire at least. "...others!" he croaks out between strained breaths.

Thalen continues to organize the water brigade, calling for some adults to grab buckets and bowls, and lining up the villagers in two lines from the well to around the inn.

In the few moments where he isn't directing, he scans the area for anyone who may have started the blaze.

The shouts and alarm interrupts Ophira’s stellar reverie. She looks over, see the fire, and jumps off her perch on the wall and runs toward the fire, alarmed.

As she approaches, she shouts out, "Bring any who are hurt to me! Quickly!" She slides to her knees and clears a space in the ground. She reaches into her pack and pulls out bandages and a skin of fresh water, as well as a soft leather pouch that contain her Goodberries.

She looks up and sees Thalen trying to manage the crowd, which sets her mind at ease. But then she looks back toward the fire and sees Beric and Gaelan risking their lives. She calls out, "Be careful! Don’t… " she trails off, not wanting to think of the worst case scenario here. Her berries can heal, and she knows the ways of magic that provide her with the healing touch, but she can only do so much, after all.

She shouts at Beric and Gaelan, and Lirann as well, saying, "Bring me anyone injured! And be careful!"

"Don't be stupid!" She yells at Gaelan as he rushes in. "At least cover your face before you breathe in all that smoke!"

Thea swears colorfully as she rushes to the burning inn, a few paces behind her swifter companions. Like Gaelan, she doesn't hesitate, plunging into the inferno to try to help anybody still trapped within!

As Thea and Gaelan charge heedlessly into the flames, timbers groan under pressure as the fire greedily eats away at them. With a loud crack, wooden beams give way above them and a chunk of the floor above comes crashing down upon them. Only thanks to their quick reflexes do the two of them just barely manage to scramble out of the way. From the newly opened hole to the second floor, they can hear shouts of fear, a pair of voices, young by the sounds of them. At the same time, barely audible over the crackling inferno, from behind the bar counter a low, pained groan emanates.

Lirann's trained eyes sweep over the chaos inside, her mind working in overdrive. Judging by how blackened and burnt the cellar stairs are, it seems likely the fire started down there and spread upwards. She follows the snaking trail of the flames, and sees the remnant of several oaken casks, slowly being scorched into crumbling coal. Their contents—Galthic's pride, his Vareesan Brandy—seemingly poured haphazardly on the floor and set ablaze.

As the gasping-for-breath Holt Birkner is brought before Ophira, Thalen and Beric keep their eyes open, taking in the situation and trying to see where help is most needed. As such, they are the first to see when the doors to the stables are thrown wide open, and several horses come charging out, terror plain in their eyes. While some scatter, two panicking horses charge straight towards the line of people trying to put out the fires!

Ophira speaks soothing words to the burned man and tries to coax him into lying down and relaxing. She assesses his wounds, reaching into the soft leather pouch at her belt and pulling out a glistening purple berry. She raises it to his lips, saying, "This will help...Stay calm. People are working to rescue the others in the fire now. You've done your part. Just rest."

Thalen's eyes stretch wide as he watches the horses charge at the line of impromptu firefighters. He takes a step back and then squints at the stable doors.

Beric sees the horses charging towards the townsfolk. Keaping into action, he runs to out himself between the horses and the people, waving his arms to get their attention. With a few words of power, he summons the ability to speak with horses.

"NOT HERE! THAT WAY! SAFETY IS THAT WAY!"

He makes grand gestures with his arms, motioning away from the people, hoping that the simple instructions will get through the horses' panic.

Beric

Screams erupt as the horses nearly collide into the lines of people Thalen has successfully organized. Men drop their buckets of water and fall backwards over each other.

But before anyone is trampled, Beric steps in front of the frightened animals. With words laced with his subtle, earthy magic, he brings the horses to a halt. Their terrified screams—DANGER! and DEATH! all now understandable to him—quiet down and they move anxiously in place.

RAVEN-KIN. It's a brief acknowledgement. They know his face, his voice, they know he is a friend. With that, they take off in the direction he gives them, giving the blazing fire a wide berth.

The other villagers slowly get to their feet, fetch their buckets. Someone pats Beric on the shoulder as they pass by. As the work resumes, dozens of eyes never leave the young man. He can see suspicious glances from some, but in others' eyes there is a quiet awe.

---

Thalen

While motioning people back into work, Thalen takes a sharp look towards the low, squat stables. Though it is hard to tell at this distance, the latches on the stalls seem undamaged, and not at all to have been forced open by the stampeding animals. Instead, the way had likely been left open for them to escape.

As near as Thalen can tell, about half of the people assembled for Flamefade still remains within sight. Many left in a hurry to find their children och siblings, and still have not returned. Neither Dathana or Charina can be spotted, nor can Norn or Evelyn Oakroot. Harl the blacksmith is still herding the young ones towards the Stone Hall. Rolf Miller, red-faced, tries to lead his children to safety, pointing towards Harl, while he bodily blocks Theda from rushing towards the inn to help out. Hugh and Catrin Corwyn do their best to follow their son's directions, encouraging others to listen to him, even as they throw nervous glances towards their cherished bookstore, only a few houses away from the inn.

---

Ophira

Holt grasps faintly in the air, his eyes almost blocked shut with soot. At Ophira's soft voice, he calms slightly, enough to accept the berry she gives him. After chewing only a few times, his body relaxes, his hand dropping to his side. His breathing eases, and as the pain subsides he lies on the ground, somewhere between waking and dreaming.

---

Gaelan

"Something fishy is going on here!" Lirann declares, talking to no one in particular and probably not being heard by anyone in the chaos either. Remembering the commotion at the stables earlier and witnessing the stampede just now sparks her suspicion and with the spilled brandy she suspects some sort of nefarious plot.

She is not brave and/or foolish enough to rush in to the fire, so there is not much to do here either. Instead she rushes over to the stable, looking for any sort of clue as to what might have happened there.

Seeing that Holt's wounds have been soothed, Ophira stands and looks for others who might be injured. Seeing no one in her immediate area, she looks around for anyone nearby who is working to help people, rein in the horses, or fight the fire. She runs to them, lays a hand on their shoulder, and says, "May your endeavor to save others be a success!"

Casting about quickly for something--anything--that will even temporarily douse the flames on the stairs, Gaelan hopes to find a blanket, a pitcher or flagon of ale, a cask of wine. If such a thing is at hand, he'll smsah or thrown it on the worse of the fire on the steps, then bound up them. If nothing comes to hand, the man simply tries to leap the flames and cross them quickly.

"Thea, prepare to catch people!" he says to the burly Wildheart.

Gaelan

Fortunately, there's no shortage of liquids to douse flames with. Wisely staying clear of the high-proof, flammable stuff, Gaelan locates a barrel of Galthic's more watered-down ale. With this, he can make his way to the second floor unharmed.

The second floor is thick with smoke and heat, but the flames have not spread as far here yet. It does not take long to identify the source of the screaming. In the second bedroom to the right, Gaelan finds the pair, both about the same age as himself or a little older. The young man is vaguely familiar but hard to place, probably from the outskirts of the village, while he quickly recognizes the girl as Galthic's niece, Kayleigh. Both look hastily dressed, and are covered in soot. Where fire has spread across the floor from beneath, they are desperately throwing sheets and stomping on it to smother the flames.

OphiraLirann

It only requires a cursory examination before Lirann is certain that something fishy is, indeed, going on. Not only were the doors to the stalls left unlatched, the ropes tying the animals have been severed by a blade. Once the fire started spreading, there was nothing stopping them from fleeing in a panic.

Seeing Beric and Lirann nearby, Ophira rushes to them. Lirann is within the barn, examining the horses' stalls, while Beric is outside, calming them. She him and puts her hand on his shoulder and intones a blessing; Beric feels a tingling warmth pass over him. This was not the first time Ophira has bestowed a mystic blessing upon Beric, given that they have spent time together working for Anathema.

She says, "What do the horses say, Beric?"

Thalen instructs one of the women to keep the bucket brigade working and steals away toward the barn. He walks up to the wall and then falls into a crouch. He finds the shadows and sneaks around the back, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the missing townsfolk who are mysteriously absent.

Beric nods to those who pat him on the back and ignores those who give him odd looks. As he is figuring out what to do next, he feels the familiar sensation of Ophira's blessing.
"They're too terrified to say much of anything right now. We may be able to ask them what they saw after things calm down." He motions towards the tavern. "Gaelan and Thea ran into the blaze. I'm heading back there to in case they need help when they come out."

Ophira nods and turns to follow. She isn't sure how much help she could be during the fire, though she could save lives after they get out and need healing. Still, she is willing to do whatever she can!

Thea nods to Gaelan. "Alright, I'll be ready."

As he runs up the stairs, she positions herself near the bottom of them, feet spread wide in a stead stance, knees bent and ready to absorb the impact. She raises her arms and shouts up, "Okay! Toss them to me!"

With her suspicions justified, Lirann begins searching around the village. More specifically, the parts of the village that might have been left empty after everyone got distracted by the fire and horses. She looks out for anyone lurking around away from the crowd who might be up to something.

Inside The Fire: Gaelan & Thea

Kayleigh's eyes dart up, and she tugs at the tunic of the young man beside her to get his attention. "Gaelan!? How did you-?" The panic writ across her face gives way to a shimmer of hope. "We couldn't get down the stairs! Is the way clear?"Outside the Inn: Ophira & Beric

Thanks to the quick work rallying the villagers and keeping the stampeding horses from disrupting the work, the situation seems to be contained for the moment. Though still a significant danger to anyone still inside the inn, the fire has been reduced enough that it likely won't spread to the surrounding buildings.


Some Distance Away: Lirann & Thalen

Moving away from the chaos at the village square, Thalen weaves gingerly between houses, keeping himself well cloaked in shadows. Lirann moves on her own investigation, not too far away. The sun has nearly set, bathing the surrounding village in hues of gray. For a moment, once away from the din of the crowd, the silence seems almost deafening.

And then they hear something else. Shouting. Screaming. But not from the place they just left. From far away, out towards the edge of the village.

Thalen is the first to see the shape moving in the dusky light. Stumbling forward along the main road, heading in the direction of the blaze. Until it notices Lirann, and limps in her direction.



One step. Two steps. The figure staggers forward, now illuminated by the distant light of the burning inn. Charina Arborine stumbles, catches herself, then drags herself another step, her steps uneven and heavy. Her hand clutches at her side, and Lirann catches a glimpse of the sheen of blood on on her pale fingers. She only get halfway towards the young sorceress before her legs fail her, and she falls to her knees in the muddy road.

"Raiders... My Thana... they came from nowhere..."

Beric is going to prepare to help anyone that Gaelan and Thea rescue (or Gaelan and Thea themselves if they get badly hurt).

Now that the fire and the animals seem under control, Ophira turns to Beric and says, "Call if anyone is injured and needs my help, OK? I'm going to look around. Something is not right here..." She walks toward the center of town, scanning the area for anyone else in need of help--or causing trouble.

Lirann initially reaches for her dagger as she sees the figure approaching, but quickly relents once it becomes clear what is happening.
She rushes towards Charina and tires to steady her as best as possible. "What happened? Where are you hurt?" She asks frantically while looking around, spotting Thalen in the process.

"Quick! Get some help!" She shouts to him.

It’s difficult to tell in the din, in the roar of flames and shouts of both those in need and those trying to help, but Kayleigh might yelp as Gaelan lifts her as though she weighs nothing, throwing her across his shoulder. Turning to race back down those burning steps, he says to both her and the young man she was with, "Is there anyone else up here?!"

Then, when Thea calls impatiently from below, he tells the man, "Jump! She will catch you! Now, man, go!"