LXXXII.

  The trek across the Frozen Plains was a gruelling undertaking.

  The shift of the moon’s corner, from its waning death to its slow and sharp

  Rebirth, marked the passage of time which their thoughts did now usurp.

  Both damp and freezing winds chilled to the bone and caused aching,

  Yet never broke Ríona’s spirit. As luck would have it,

  They obtained a horse in Med’Vetchya, which a demigod befit.

  Indeed, to ease their travels and reduce the painstaking

  Workload on the stallion, they sailed upstream with no backbreaking.

  LXXXIII.

  On the fifth day of travel, they passed a decrepit place.

  A relic of a better time, the great fort of Bobryk,

  Now a shadow of its former glory, standing on ice thick.

  Thereupon, they reached the very edge of sophisticated grace:

  The edge of civilization. From here onward they found

  Only the discourteous embrace of the mountains’ high ground.

  These white peaks known as “The Varrows,” all north-land did encase,

  And many believed they were the Innerworld’s treacherous staircase.

  LXXXIV.

  She prayed to her ancestor’s spirits, the clan’s Tribe Mothers,

  For only they could lend her the necessary strength to pursue

  Her goal. Despite never being one of such pious worldview

  Back home in Ka?s, she found comfort in a prayer’s smother

  Before the final, arduous rise up from the Frozen Plains.

  Alas, both a blessing and a curse, flowing in her veins

  Was the only company she endured, one which stayed rather

  Quiet. Such eerie suspicion did this slowly inwards usher.

  LXXXV.

  Yet other times, the Witch would show a great deal of compassion.

  Her words were sweet as honey, and calm as a soft wind’s breeze.

  Rekindling of a friendship that once brought joy and gave ease

  To Ríona. Helpfulness and reassurances with passion

  Would both help to rejuvenate the uneasy alliance

  That had been crumbling between them due to bitter defiance.

  Both parties in this isolation, now had to ration

  With their ploys, and finally their fragile harmony refashion.

  LXXXVI.

  Then finally, on the eve of the eight day, the lake of Vransk

  Emerged before their eyes. A tower piercing the valley,

  Which was wrapped in a low fog, seemed ancient in its tally

  Of years. Predating any mason’s style that one would bask

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  In any of the great remnant cities on the Plawan coast.

  This structure was a relic of a bygone era, an outpost

  From a time when the now-frozen interior was still abask

  With sunshine during the brief midsummer’s unenvious task.

  LXXXVII.

  Upon approaching the heavy oaken doors, she immediately felt

  The abnormal circulations of the adjacent flow.

  It acted like bloodsuckers, pinching her at a high tempo

  From every which direction, coming in waves and would pelt

  Her every so often. Nonetheless, she carried on with a stealthy

  Pattern and attempted to carefully harness the wealthy

  Supply of the matter. She made an effort to disguise and melt

  Herself into the background, her movements graceful and svelte.

  LXXXVIII.

  The spell twirled only on the tips of her fingers at first,

  However, upon another try, she began blending in

  With the encircling colours. Her camouflage was akin

  To that of a chameleon and made her appearance immersed

  With the surroundings. This magick could offer some assurance

  On this long awaited foggy night and with little deterrence,

  The flow’s push opened the gate; a hall of candlelight dispersed.

  Concurrently, crazed laughs were shut down by an anger’s outburst.

  LXXXIX.

  The silence of attentiveness inside their head was broken

  By the goddess: “Dost thou hear it? That is the laugh of the man

  Thou seekest, a long lost cause! With assiduity one can

  Expect the unexpected, and though he might be outspoken,

  He is likely harmless to us; likewise, he is kin-in-kind.

  In spite of this, Balthazaran rage burns deeply in his mind!

  It fuels his grapple with petty triviality as a token

  To all his failures! For them he is now forever hagridden!”

  XC.

  In nodding accord, Ríona whispered back a query:

  “Hath his vessel been torn in twain? Why doth he leap from essence to

  Essence?” The queen smirked and indulged in these thoughts that only grew:

  “He is what thou willest become if thou dost not follow thy dest’ny,

  Young lass!” The girl left deep in thought, and creeped ever closer

  To the origins of the laughter. The light shimmering about her

  Was originating from the flow itself and was eerily

  Aligned with the tingly bites it produced continuously.

  XCI.

  Whatever the Tsar was up to, he meddled with the bare

  Lifeblood of the enigmatic power that was the flow.

  The closer she got, the sharper the stinging misery would grow

  And upon reaching the doorway, the flow that gave her chameleon’s wear,

  Would begin to lacerate her skin, drawing gushing blood!

  She quickly dispersed it for fear of injury. Her plan now in mud.

  Upon this act, the laughs and grunts ceased. The Tsar was now aware

  Of Ríona’s presence; and thus, of Aurianne’s devious snare.