Have One On Me (Day 76)

Terakiel awoke as he had many times in the past few days. He was groggy, in pain, and unsure of where he was. After taking a moment to regain his senses, he realized he was still in the clearing with the monument. His bare flesh, though damp, was no longer covered in sheets of ice. He spared a glance at his hands and once again there were no scorch marks. For the most part, he felt reasonably well. Fog was still thick in the air, but the bitter cold from before was long gone.

He had no way of knowing just how long he'd been under. His surroundings--as murky and dim as ever--were spectacularly unhelpful. He raised himself into a seated position and groaned. The battered and bruised young man felt as if everything he'd gone through thus far paled in comparison to what had occurred with the monument. His head was throbbing with remembered pain, though it appeared there were no other lasting effects. The trees ringing the clearing were as alive and healthy as ever, with no hint they'd been encrusted with ice only--hours?--before.

The planar stone was no longer glowing with energy. After traversing the black world, its energy had drained from it, in a way that for some reason, seemed final. He reached out his hand to touch the structure once more and was not surprised to find no warmth there. It had served whatever its intended purpose might be. He felt as if the strange artifact had imparted its knowledge to him somehow. He had communed with it, had traveled its dark world. It was a planar stone; what that might mean was lost on him.

As frustrating as it might be to still be left with no answers, Terakiel was eager to move on. With the monument's power drained, he felt there was nothing left for him there. As he pulled himself to his feet, his blood ran cold as he caught a figure in his peripheral vision. Alarmed, he spun around to face the first human being he'd seen in several days.

He was a young fair-skinned man not likely much older than Terakiel himself, with shoulder-length blonde hair. He was garbed with highly unusual clothing. He was adorned with intricately crafted metal shoulder plates inlaid with a series of unrecognizable symbols. Underneath the plates he wore a long dark cloak partially obscuring a tunic, sash, and what Terakiel thought might be some more light armor. Before he could take in this strange man's appearance, he spoke suddenly, with an accent unlike anything he'd ever heard.

"I see you are now awake." His tone was measured and precise, though not unfriendly. He seemed to expect a reply, but Terakiel was unable to bring words to his mouth. "Do you speak the common tongue?"

"Y-yes," Terakiel stammered, his voice still hoarse from disuse.

"Excellent," the young man replied. "Now, do you suppose you could tell me why you have brought me here?"