Hapushet/FallingShadowsSessionTwo

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Session Two

The Circle of Solar heroes chooses not to proceed north at once. Grace, remembering last night's full moon and anticipating another tonight, puts forth an alternative: she can use her sorcery to summon the Spy Who Walks In Darkness once sunset comes, which will allow them to scout ahead far faster than any of them could otherwise achieve. This strikes the rest as a sound idea, and they decide to use the remaining daylight to assist and calm the villagers. Lumo and Anaba take the lead in making friends; through most of the day, they talk quietly with families trying to adapt to the loss of their homes or a loved one, offer advice and counsel to the village leaders, attempt to reassure those they encounter that tales of Solar infernalism are distortions and exaggerations and that the village has nothing to fear now. These attempts are not completely successful, but eyes that had stared in stark terror before merely watch warily now, and some few offer words of thanks or gifts of food and drink. If the offers are made from fear rather than gratitude, they are still freely put forth, and the Solars show proper thanks.

Grace prepares herself for the night's ritual, acquiring the right herbs and unguents needed for the summoning. Sanura stays apart mostly, lost in unpleasant thoughts. Lapis, as always the perfect guest, nevertheless watches his hosts as warily as they do him, an ill consideration coloring his eyes.

That night, Anaba agrees to assist Grace in the casting of the ritual, and Sanura chooses to look on as they proceed. As the women leave, Lapis draws Lumo aside to speak of his misgivings. "There is danger in allowing these people to go on as they have been," Lapis says quietly. "The Legion will not take it well if we leave behind tales of Anathema when we depart, tales that can spread."

Lumo looks around, a solemn expression marking his face as well. "You may be right. They have agreed to keep our silence, but how can we trust that?"

After a moment's thought, Lapis replies, "There might be a way." With that, he moves off into the village, speaking quietly to men and women as he passes them, apparently doing as he and the others had done that morning. Now, however, Essence rides behind his eyes, and the souls of those to whom he speaks are open to him. He sees wariness, fear, sorrow - but also gratitude, cautious acceptance, hesitant welcome. Nowhere does he find betrayal writ across the passions of the village, and with that, he is content. "They will not betray us as long as we do not harm them," he tells Lumo, and the weight of his Caste hangs over the statement. Lumo is satisfied.

Elsewhere, as the moon rises in the east, chasing down the sun in the west, Grace turns to face Luna's full gaze and begins to chant softly in the Old Tongue, ancient cadences flowing smoothly in a rhythm of power. Behind her, Anaba anoints Grace's shadow, outlining, then covering the dark shape with a peculiar pitch mixed with unusual herbs. As the moon rises, Anaba sees with mild shock that Grace's shadow does not move with it, trapped beneath the pitch as an insect in amber. On and on Grace chants, her voice never faltering, as Anaba carefully smears the pitch to cover every trace of the frozen shadow. At last, four hours later, the chanting ends and Grace turns to face her shadow, which still does not move. Taking a burning twig from Anaba, she hurls it onto the pitch with a final triumphant cry, leaping back as the flames burst into existence around her and gold-white Essence sears the night sky.

Her shadow rises and bows slowly.

Though weary from the casting, Grace does not hesitate. Lowering herself to the ground, she pours her will into the Spy, riding on a wave of Essence. After a moment, they merge. She blinks with the eyes of the shadow, smiles with its mouth. Then she/it turns to the darkness, steps into it, and is gone.

The Spy emerges from the shadow of a small tree some five miles north. Low rolling hills meet its/her gaze, but nothing more. The Spy's vision pierces the night's gloom as though it were midday. With no more than a casual glance, she/it steps back into the tree's shadow and disappears again, stepping out once more into the darkness behind a boulder, another five miles north. No more than 50 yards away a deep gorge, twenty paces wide and at least three times that deep, carves its way through the rolling grasslands. A rough rope and plank bridge crossed the gorge once - possibly until quite recently. Now, however, it dangles uselessly, cut loose on the far side. A quick scan of the area reveals no other hints or clues, but the bridge is clue enough. A third time she steps into the shadows and is gone.

Now she appears amongst some low scrub on the increasingly hilly plain, long low ridges crossing the land to the north and south. In the distance to the north, the ridges rise into foothills, and then to low mountains. The mountains are between six and eight miles away, Grace estimates, studying them to the Spy's eyes. Though she still finds no sign of anyone who might have come this way, the mountains stand as a barrier to further northern travel. Though repeated shadow-travel has weakened the Spy considerably, she decides to risk one more transit toward the mountains. From there, if need be, the Spy can proceed on foot. She directs the Spy back into the bushes, and she/it steps out on the edge of a forest, a wide expanse of slow-moving river dividing her from the base of the mountains. On the side of the nearest peak, just a few hundred feet up from the river's far bank, the flicker of a campfire draws the Spy's eyes. "At last," Grace thinks. "I have found them."

/FallingShadowsSessionThree