The Harrowing - a short story on the Valkin'vi

[NPC Christen]

*** Jared has been more than patient with me getting the Valkin'vi race book done... and I've been a brat and done everything BUT that. I thought that if I posted some of the content as I got it done, it might keep me going, as well as give some of the new folks the content for which they have been asking.

Please note: all of this is in its rough format. There will be edits and such. However, as I get it done, I will be adding content so that you have SOMETHING to work with. Questions are welcome. ***


Tonight was the night. It had been almost a decade in the making, painful at times, and trying beyond anything for which his training had prepared him, but it was worth it. To see the serene look on the face of his beloved Oracle as she prepared for her ascension made all of it worthwhile.

“So thoughtful, the look on your face, Va’ron. Have you worried about me?” Talessa’s dark, nearly black, eyes glittered in the light of the moon and candles as her handmaiden braided her long equally black hair intricately after the fashion of the Seers of the Shadow Reavers. Her ritual paint was flawless black and white, the blank spaces in it would be filled in tonight as she ascended to the rank of secondary high oracle of their community. There was teasing in her voice as she spoke in that strange past/future tense of the most devout and classically trained of the Valkin’Vi mystic traditions.

“Of course I worry about you, Mistress,” the Lightning Rider answered her in the present tense he knew she meant it. “You have given everything for our people, and this night you see your dream made manifest, just as your grandmother, Anessa guard her essence, foresaw upon your birth. Some have even interpreted your birth prophecy to mean that someday you will ascend even unto the Circle. I am aware of the danger of the Harrowing, however, and though I have every confidence under the moon and stars, it is natural that I should worry about you.”

Va’ron stepped away from where he had been watching her reflection in the window as he gazed out at the gathering community of their kin. Talessa was young to be so ranked, second only to their bloodline’s High Mystic. When Jenika died, Talessa would take her place as leader of the whole of their kindred here. Though their folk were not always here gathered, often solitary and wandering the wide wilds of the world, still this was their family and home. Their blood would sing when it was time to return to the Oracle, and as all Valkin’vi shared that most secret and sacred of bonds, they would find their way to wherever their bloodline Oracle resided. Tonight was one such occasion. From far and wide they had been arriving over the last week, called by Jenika’s magic and pull upon their essence. They were here to bear witness to the heir of their people taking her final test to be proven worthy.

“I will not perish,” the oracle answered his next thought before even he had the chance to speak it. That was the way of Seers. Having been bonded to Talessa at birth, her guardian and protector for the whole of her life, he was used to it. She gave voice to the deepest fear of any Lightning Rider… the horror and dishonor of losing one’s Seer. It was the greatest shame, one few of their elite and honored cast survived; to lose one’s Seer and live. Most did not. Those who did often bitterly regretted it. “I will not because Jenika will not live forever, and our kin will need a leader to see them through the troubles that will settle upon the whole of the lands. I will be as a mother to them all, loving each and Seeing us to the ultimate destiny of finding our way Home.”

The word was a proper noun. Home. Mystriallia. There was a disquiet in the essence of every Valkin’vi, that irrevocable urning to return to the plain from which the elves had so long ago summoned them. As a bird who was caged, so were their kin. Once… once they had been beings of pure essence, free of form to bind them. But, this did not serve the purposes of those ancient magic using elves. They had bound the essences they had summoned into physical bodies, forever chaining those essences to the Phantaran plain evermore.

Every one of the Folk dreamed of the day they would find their lost lore and finally find a way back to their home. In the mean time, they lived as a people apart, preserving as many of their customs as they could, keeping their heritage and past alive in their traditions.

There was a knock on the door of Talessa’s well appointed chambers. As a revered Seer, she had the best her people could offer her, tribute for the sacrifice she made for them. All Seers did. No family, no children, no spouse to call their own. They gave over all personal property, goals, and life to serve their people alone. In return, the Valkin’vi revered them, cherished, protected them, and saw to their needs.

“You will enter,” the young oracle said. Jenika’s page bowed deeply when he entered silently, his paint particularly ornate to show his service to his mistress and in honor of the occasion.

“It is time, revered Lady.” Without raising his eyes, for he was in service to another seer and thus not permitted to gaze upon any but his mistress without permission, he bowed once more and left as silently as he had arrived.

Va’ron knelt at the side of his Mistress, looking her equal in his black scaled armor and accoutrements. He was the night to her starlight, the hardness to her softness. He was her Lightning Rider, her eternal and steadfast guardian through all that might come to pass, forsaking all else in service to her alone. Talessa placed a delicate hand in his and bid him rise.

“It is time,” she repeated in the rare present tense. “Time to face the Harrowing and my Fate.”