Salana stood in the cold.
The wind swept across the snow, harsh and biting, though it brought only a muted chill to the little skin she left uncovered. Her face tilted toward the moon—the only light in a sky besieged by darkness.
Valen sages said the scars that marred its surface were caused by ancient impacts, wounds taken in place of their world. She often wondered if it could have been green and lush, like Terra itself, if only it had been made for life.
But it hadn’t.
Her moon wasn’t designed to live.
it was designed to take hits.
Salana’s vixen ears twitched at the sound of soft footsteps crunching through snow. and she turned to see a child approaching, bundled in a heavy coat, tugging her hood down against the wind with small, determined hands. Salana stepped forward and slightly to the left, placing herself so as to break the bitter gusts before they could reach the girl.
She said nothing at first—just fixed the child with a calm, hard stare and waited for her to explain why she was away from her quarters so late.
“You’re going away, aren’t you?”
The quiet question caught her off guard. Salana had expected a tantrum. Yelling. Tears. Not this.
“…Yes,” she said. “I am, Eria.”
“Why?”
Salana hesitated. The child’s eyes searched hers, not accusing, only confused. And hurt.
“The Valens want a Keeper at their academy.”
“But why does it have to be you?” there was a slight hint of tears soaking into Eria's voice “There are other Keepers—ones better than you at fighting, or diplomacy, or intelligence…”
Salana crouched, kneeling in the snow to meet her eyes.
“Valiants don’t ask why when we receive orders. Even if they send us to opposite ends of Terra.” Her voice was firm, but as gentle as it ever went. “You still want to be a Valiant, don’t you?”
She didn’t say it, but they both knew Eria likely never would be one. Something in her Aitherheart had been malformed at birth. She couldn’t control the mana she generated—couldn’t even project a shield. No matter how strong her spirit, the child simply wasn't made for it.
“But your orders don’t say I can’t come with you,” the child insisted. “You could take a large rucksack through the gate. I could hide inside it. No one would know.”
The corner of Salana’s lips twitched into the faintest Valiant’s smile—a smile that bore weight without softness.
“Your parents would know. I don’t think you’d last a day before your mother showed up on the academy grounds to reclaim you, and bite off my tails.”
Eria frowned, clearly trying to formulate another argument to justify her own kidnapping.
“I’ll write you every day,” Salana said. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
She stood, and the child followed wordlessly beside her.
Salana’s ears caught heavier footsteps approaching from around the village walls.
“Speaking of which—your judgment is just around the corner.”
Moments later, Eria’s mother came into view, her pace quickening when she spotted them. She bowed stiffly, murmuring apologies between tight breaths, before whisking the girl away, scolding her in a voice that alternated between relief and frustration.
Salana said nothing, only turned her eyes back to the sky, back to the moon.
She wondered if she truly would have time to write. The Valen Academy was infamously competitive—both in its martial demands and its academic rigor. It could not match the crucible she had been forged in, but navigating the world of nobles, scholars, and politics would not be easy. Forming bonds among the powerful was a war of its own, especially for someone born in a nation most of them still considered little more than violent barbarians.
Hello my comrades, compatriots, and uhh... cronies? i am here looking for an rp partner (obviously) for a long term fantasy rp set on Terravorn a supper continent blockaded by impenetrable fog, and deep choppy waters which conceal the inhabitants of their murky depths.
there are whispers of fish headed men, four legged monsters with sunken eyes and rows of teeth, dark shapes off the coast. A Deepwake has been due for five hundred years and the nations of Terravorn are bracing for Cataclysm.
as part of Valens preparation you have been drafted into the Valen academy to be trained as a Battlemage. play your cards right and you could go far, maybe even propel your house into the limelight of your home nation. but of course, life isn't so easy as to just hand you success.
in a nation built on warriors, and those pretensioner's of targeted pain. in an academy where 60 percent of your success is based on duels, and combat prowess, in a list of fifteen known attunements with just three which hold no offensive prowess. you've drawn the short stick.
on your 18th birthday your attunements were activated, both of them support. will you establish yourself in the academy? will you find a way to turn your liabilities into strengths? will Terravorn be drowned in a dark tide? (password is your favorite book, and your favorite line form it)
what im looking for:
romance amongst our characters.
someone interested in character arcs, and development,
someone willing to chat, and get to know each other in ooc,
if any of this sounds interesting to you please contact me, and lets talk.