The Outlanders

Othera's Children

NORIEL

Three years.

 I have been here for Three years. The initial week was probably the most difficult part. But accepting that everything in Laethora is real, gets easier the longer you stay. Your mind begins to acclimate to the idea of magic, the idea of monsters, the idea that there would be matters you'd find impossible to explain, yet those around you can. When the Seeker had found me years ago, I refused to believe any of it was real.

Now I'm used to it.

I've grown enervated from repeating this particular incantation, but Othera's priests have tirelessly reminded me that it's supposed to put my mind at ease. Being a savior of Laethora should never be this dull. Unfortunately for me, it is. The priests have told me my soul is of one who would heal Laethora. Purge the sick, and invigorate what needs vitality. It's purple prose, if you ask me. The biggest problem is the fact that I was never informed I wasn't going to be the only Outlander.

Looking past the ambiguity of the words Othera's priests have about my soul, how it could cleanse the world, I'm led to believe that the other Outlanders each have a different purpose. There is another that I know of; A voice that consoles.

Over the years, I've been taught to manipulate the positive and negative energies that populate Laethora. I can heal those who need it, and grant death to those who deserve it. However, it's believed that there's always more potential to be unlocked. It's simply a matter of acting upon it.

"Noriel." A woman calls out to me, and the religious symbols of Othera that have been circling above my head drop to the concrete below. My feet slowly touch the ground, and I open my eyes. Noriel isn't my name. Noriel is the name bestowed upon me by the priests. My earth name is Nico Ledesma. I've since been forced to cut ties with the person I was, in order to become the person I'm meant to be.

"I certainly hope you have a good reason for disrupting me." While I do find the exercise rather dull, I still despise having to stop for the sake of somebody else. Perhaps a few more hours of repeating the same chant would bring me the enlightenment I'm told I needed.

"Don't worry, I do." The woman in front of me, narrows her eyes into half-lids. She's the voice that consoles. Her arms cross, and raises one side of her hip, "Othera spoke to me." She tells me, and promptly runs delicate fingers through the locks of her pixie cut blonde hair. "The others have arrived. They're in Cassinvarya."

I turn a small corner of the cave. The cave's smell could use some work, thankfully there's an easy solution to the cold; A small makeshift bonfire that she and I have set up sits at the center. While exile isn't part of our training, I've explicitly taken the liberty of asking the priests to give both of us a year of isolation. A part of it for privacy, seeing as a good portion of my training meant there were eyes on me nearly twenty-four hours a day. But the bigger part of the isolation was so that I could shape my abilities as my own, and not as hand-me-downs from the priests. There will always be the inevitable noise that will act as a distraction.

My hand runs against my chin, and with the free one, I pick up the canister of fresh water I've procured for myself. "How many?" I'm inquiring, but I spare her no glance. She isn't too perturbed by my lack of social etiquette.

"I heard... Four." My interrupter responds, before taking the steel water container from my grasp. She takes a long swig, and hands it back to me in kind. "So then, the prophecy?"

The bottom of the canister's visible. She's finished it. I assume that her physical training must have been a little too overbearing. "Yes." I nod. "It's fulfilling itself."