-Aien Wisp-
Since my birth, I've known these lands. These barren lands, covered in sand and monsters alike. For 14 years, I've travelled and learnt the ground, alone. I haven't so much as heard another soul.
It doesn't necessarily bother me, though. I've made my way through this place without incident, for the most part. I'm not sure how to explain it, but the wind in this place seems to like me. It bends to my will and, after enough practice, I can pretty much do anything absent-mindedly.
I live picking up necessary equipment from wherever I find it, staying out of trouble and, when it finds me, dealing with it.
The creatures around here are relentless. Though that's not giving them enough credit. They compete for territory, food and water. Anything. If you're in this place, chances are something is trying to kill you. They don't care about experience or a likely outcome. If you look tasty, you're a target.
Even with all my experience it's not a safe place. I'm barely skilled enough to defeat the average creature or two, larger or more experienced ones would be an issue. Even if I did, somehow win, it would be one hell of a mess to clean up. Recovering from potential injuries, recovering those materials I used to cover a wound or two. You get the idea.
That said, it's not completely a barren hellscape. The lessons I've learned in one place apply to the next area of this expanse of sand. A lot of the information is universal, unless dealing with certain monsters.
Heck, I've made quite the accommodation for myself. I've found a safe-haven of sorts, a comfortable cave that's just off the cliff edge. On second thought, it's more of a hole in a wall. I've found old books. From before the desert was here. Something like a forest? I'm not too sure. But these books keep popping up in some old ruins. Has some things that the ancients used. Some things that they did or wore. Even the common language. I made myself a thing they call clothes and a bed out of some leftover scales from a shedding crocodile-looking thing. Their name? I think 'Crocs' will do.
With this bed, and the warm clothes, it made the winters even more bearable. The clothes let me leave the deeper cave systems that provided some level of protection from the harsh winter's snow, and even gave me a chance that the old, blind crocs would see me as one of their own.
And the bed. The bed was a saviour. Well I call it a bed. It's pretty much a cover of old animal skin. But it still beat sleeping on the cold rock floors.
But on this night, I awoke shivering. Was winter setting in? Though it didn't feel like winter. It was the middle of summer just a day or two ago.
"Strange." I mutter to myself, before a sudden realisation hit me, causing my muscles to tense in fear, jolting myself awake.
There had been cases of monsters that use frost-based abilities popping up in the area, from what I saw. Just my luck.
After a while of holding my breath, I muster enough courage to slip on the croc-scale clothing I had made, wrapping a sturdy vine around my waist. Surely it couldn't be that bad, right?
As I stepped into the chilled air, frost slightly covered the ground where I stood, crouched on top of a ledge. Though what met me was certainly not expected.
Instead of the harsh growls or snarls of monsters, their large figures standing out against the sand that's illuminated by the moonlight, I was met with soft, patterned sounds. Sounds that echoed up to me. Sounds that I could recognise. The language that those books were written in.
After mustering enough courage to take a look, I crept closer to the edge and peered over.
Then, I spotted them. 2 figures stood, one laying down. "Are they hurt?" I thought, turning one's head towards me.
"Who's there?" Then figure called. Turns out I have a bad habit of thinking aloud, that, in all my years of silence on these plains, I haven't realised.
Now that. That was a good question. The letter, or whatever condolences my parents gave me after leaving me to fend for myself, called me Aien Wisp.
So, naturally, that's what I called out. "I'm called Aien, Aien Wisp."
The people just looked surprised at this, started muttering something about my last name, along the lines of "A wisp?"
One of the figures stepped forward. I wasn't sure if I should run, I hadn't met someone who could actually respond up until now. That said, their equipment was far superior to the scraps I had scavenged from surrounding ruins, they could be a threat.
A low groan came from behind the figure, their injured friend.
At first, I wanted to help. Despite this, I didn't want to go down. They didn't seem safe to be around. However, something compelled me to. The wind, as if blowing against my back to try and get me to help. So, I obliged, jumping down the steep drop, landing silently and without injury.
For a moment, all was still. Nothing but the harsh breeze that characterised this desert.
They stared at me – a stranger from the middle of nowhere, meeting them under the faint moonlight of the Gale. Hands hovered over sword hilts, knuckles whitened around spears. They had a right to be suspicious.
Their eyes peered at me from underneath hoods, looking me over before one finally spoke. "You look young. How old are you?" It asked. The stead voice had a crack of unease running through it.
I paused, "I don't know. Fourteen?" I said in incredibly broken speech, "Old enough to survive this place, at least."
This seemed to put the people at ease, or at least looking more concerned for me than themselves. The other shifted, lowering their weapon's point, "You're alone here?" He asked, stepping forward.
I hesitated. My fingers itched to reach for the knife, tucked at my side. But the wind stayed my hand. I nodded, "Yeah," I muttered. "Just me."
They shared a glance between themselves, then with their injured friend. The one on the floor spoke up, "A-Are you a wisp?" They asked through an unsteady voice.
I blinked, "A.. what now?" The word meant nothing to me, and the adventurers traded uneasy looks.
The older one, a shorter man with a long beard that was partially covered by a scarf, stepped forward, "You don't know?" He asked carefully, almost as if he was afraid the wrong word might set something off.
I shook my ahead slowly and the man sighed. Not relief, neither was it fear. Something else.
"Doesn't matter." The other said, a younger woman with a shallow cut across her cheek, gesturing to her friend, glancing to me out of the corner of her eye. "Right now," She paused to calm her shaking voice, "We need help. Can... you do anything for her?" She asked.
The words hung in the air for a while, almost similar to bait. Not a demand, but instead a plea to help their friend.
I hesitated. I didn't understand it, but something made my fingers itch. As if the wind compelled me to.
So, I concentrated. I listen to the wind and the wind listened back, reducing the distinctive scent of blood as the one who asked for help muttered a shaky curse under her breath.
The injured one sat up, blinking rapidly, as if just waking up form a deep, fevered dream. Her sharp breathing steaded to slow, deep pulls of air. The gash along her side had shallowed and stopped bleeding, as if accelerated by the wind.
A stunned silence followed.
The woman who had asked in the first place was the first to move to her side, glancing at me with wide, unreadable eyes. "You..." She whispered, her voice caught between awe and fear, "You really are-"
"Enough," The man said, his tone implying he wasn't going to budge. "He's a kid. Doesn't matter what he is." There was something fierce in that tone, warning the others not to push further.
I didn't understand their fear. I only knew that the wind had back away, satisfied. It felt... right.
The injured girl slowly rose to her feet, swaying slightly until she was stabilized by her friend. She gave me a look. Not gratitude, but something closer to wary respect.
They gathered for a bit, speaking in a low, rushed whisper. I caught fragments, "Too dangerous...", "No choice." and "We need to leave..."
The man, who had defended me, turned back. His eyes were defensive, but not unkind. "You said you were Aien?" He asked, continuing after I gave him a slow nod. "You can come with us." He said, slowly. "If you want."
The others in the group didn't protest, but their forced silence spoke louder than words, causing me to hesitate.
I gazed past them towards the endless, ragged horizon that I called home. Eternally covered in sand and broken stones, stretching out endlessly. It was my home. However, I feared I would be swallowed up again, if left at it alone.
Together... Maybe they could show me out of this place.
I nodded once, causing a tight smile to cross the man's face. "Name's Riven," He said, jerking a thumb at himself. He gestured to the woman with the shallow cut, "That's Mera." Then to the girl that was still recovering. "And that's Seraphim, call her Sera."
Sera looked around my age, slightly smaller though. They seemed like reasonable people, and I don't think they'll harm me.
"Beats the desert." I said, trying to put as much enthusiasm into the words as possible.
Riven gave a grunt of approval. "Welcome to the party, kid." he said.
I nodded and took a breath as the wind stirred around me, as if approving.