Zephyra had many traits. She was adventurous, she was curious, she was outspoken, and she was brave. Some of them were bad to have at times, others were good. She was also studious, even if she was self-taught, and loved to read and read upon the wonders of the world around them. Other than her mother’s stories, which often ended up being of another land anyway, she had no true way of knowing of the land around her. She wanted to. It was peculiar and some of the people, she was finding, were even more peculiar.
 
She had made it a goal that she wanted to meet a being like her mother. Zephyra had spent some time in their library pulling out all books of the knowledge of the triune and the two other Gods that existed and read about them and tried to decipher what she could of their personality. The Dark One, she certainly did not want to dare venturing to meet him. He did not seem the type for idle chit chat and teaching a young girl about the divine and their purpose and powers. Admittedly she was intimidated by the chaotic dreamwalker. The storm wolf intrigued her as did the lady of love and strength but something called to her for Rhylana, the one who burns and consumes all. It was intimidating without being too intimidating.
 
She had been reading a book about the Ivory Court and its Lady for the last several days. When she turned the last few pages and finally finished, she replaced the book and ran outside of her home in the Sundering Gardens to her horse, Nymaeria, and got on. His stone gray coat and white hair were stark contrasts to her dark eyes and raven hair. On her back was a pack of rations and a tent and bedroll and everything she would need for a small journey.
 
She rode into the rainforest where it was rumored that the Ivory Court held its place. Sure enough deep enough in beneath the thick canopy of trees she found the Court. At first she ran into a large ivory wall with beautiful goldstone veins running through it. This alone was beautiful, she could only imagine what the rest looked like! Zephyra rode around until she found a break in the wall that she could pass through. Before her was one of the largest buildings she had seen, made entirely of ivory and goldstone. From the walls themselves to the domes of glass with fire, everything was pure amazement to her eyes.
 
She left her horse, sliding off his back, at the main entrance. For a while she stopped to admire the carved lions before proceeding past the pillars. Zephyra was welcomed by an antechamber draped with all manners of colored silks and was greeted by servants with tanned skin and dressed in silks similar to those draped around them. They asked if she needed or wanted anything to which she shook her head, still in awe of what she was seeing. All around her were lounges and pillow and fire pits. She found a servant and requested some hot tea before sitting cross-legged on one of the pillows. While she was dying to explore, she did not know where she was welcome and did not want to upset the Goddess.

If this Goddess were anything like her mother, she would recognize a presence within her home and come to see about it. At least, that’s what she was counting on.

Rhylana had been working with a her son regarding his studies, something that she was instilling in him in a young age so that he would not slack later, when the weave pulled upon her. Someone was here, someone that was not simply a mortal, someone familiar. “Nikolai, please go to Viviana for your music lessons, take Alairia with you.” Alairia never left Nikolai’s side, as an air mage, she could protect her son without truly endangering him or the grounds. This was something that was preferable at the moment as Rhylana was not going waste her arcane stores to rebuild anything. Part of her dared Dimitre to show up, to harm her home, for she would unleash hell upon him.

The thoughts passed as she stood, kissing her young boy and leaving the secured wing of the temple, walking briskly down the halls as she let her power seek out the intruding being. She tasted of earth, of the basics that were too often forgotten, this creature was linked to Angela. She smiled, shaking her head as each soft fall of her slipped pat softly on the marble floor, long midnight blue now ‘swishing’ with each step. It was form fitting, an A line that favoured her charms and glossed over the fact that she was ‘fat’ for a Knight. The schooled neck was done in silver knot work that was mirrored on her bell sleeves and a belt that hung around her waist. Classic for Rhylana, though now upon her brow was a diadem that harboured a single blue stone on a silver chain.

She entered the antechamber, looking to the servants as they told Rhylana what she already knew, they had a guest; a guest that not taking tea and expecting the lady of the house. The thought made her smile, this young thing knew how the gods typically ran the temples. It was comforting, for it left the pomp and circumstance out of this affair. The girl was pretty, very young, and it made her wonder if Angela knew where she had gone, for a raven haired youth should not be out and investigating the world.

She spoke from experience.

The young goddess went to the youth and smirked, “Welcome to the Ivory Court you one, I have been told you will not be taking tea. May I ask what has brought you to my lands?” It was not easy to get here, the jungle was filled with beasts, and so were the gardens around her temple. Granted, the sun was high, and typically Rhylana would not be awake just now, so the large cats were asleep, and Damon had been given the afternoon to relax.

Zephyra looked around among the hanging silks. They were all so beautiful and she wondered where the Goddess had gotten them from or had she simply made them from nothingness as her mother often did with things? She was sitting cross legged on a pillow in her black breeches with high black leather boots and a semi-transparent emerald green tunic with a black and gold corset beneath it. She boasted no jewels or expensive headdresses. Her hair was left to lie on it’s on- mostly straight with just a hint of waves here and there.
 
She was refusing tea because life at home with a Goddess who was of the Earth meant there was plenty of tea around and plenty of tea to drink. In fact, it was almost solely what they all drank. Certainly there was a variety available to them from sweet treats like cinnamon to more soothing flavors like lavender or chamomile. It was still too much tea. It was why when she snuck out on her adventures, if she came across a tavern she played mind games with the barkeep to get glasses of wine to enjoy. Thus far the softer whites were her favorite for they were the sweetest. The more robust reds she liked only a few and sparingly.
 
Zephyra looked up when she heard the slippered feet of someone coming down one of the hallways. When the doors was opened, the servants flooded to the woman and that right there told her who she was, which was the Goddess. Even if they had not swarmed her like a pack of bees, she would have known from her very fancy dress and ornate headpiece that this woman had to have been the Goddess. Who else would be dressed like such? Certainly not any travelers.
 
She waited to be addressed and when she finally was, Zephyra took the time to bow her head from her resting spot upon the pillow on the floor. She was not used to these interactions and only hoped that would be enough of a sign of respect for the Goddess to allow her to stay and to answer her questions. “Oh my Lady, if you knew how much tea we drank at home… one does eventually get sick of tea. I would not mind a glass of wine if you have it, though.” Her cheeks were hot with slight embarrassment.
 
“The only God or Goddess of this world I know of is my mother, Angela. I am sure you have met. Well, you see, I want to know more about the people like her and the domains they are trusted with. So, my Lady, if you’ll have me for the day I would love to know all about you and how your powers work.”

Rhylana was not renown for being kind. No, her family was rather known for being cold and manipulating, denizens of the darkness that consumed the hope and light of those around them. Seeing this fresh young face before her made her blink, asking for her time and patience? Angela had family members pouring into her and while she generally didn’t mind, none of these children were going to be joining her temple. Angela would have a fit. The goddess moved to sit down, and as she lowered her bottom seemingly into the air, a chair appeared of shadows and light, one leg crossed over the other.

She looked at the child, taking her in and weighing the inconvenience of this, oddly, she had never been raised by a God. No, she had been expected to worship a god and go on, so she could not really relate to how this child of the gods must feel. She thought on the request for some time, servants bringing the silent goddess tea and a cinnamon coated sweet roll. “Angela brings me a good deal of my tea, I can sympathise, however you will not be having wines in my home. Your mother would call the earth open and descend my temple into the depths.” There was a playful smile upon her lips, eyes glittering with power and thought as she sighed.

“Come young one, I will answer your questions. I have done my duties for the day and you are not impertinent. I cannot imagine what it is like to have Angela as a mother.” Though legend had it she may very well find out, a thought that made Rhylana shudder slightly. Dimitre with a redhead seemed wrong, one of their peers seemed even more corrupt for Dimitre never did anything without his own motivations.  It was unnerving to think that she could be looking at a step sister…then again, Angel bed anyone that asked…maybe she was just interested in Dimitre as a notch on the belt as it were. 

“How my powers work, that is a vague subject my dear, for I have many. I have those that, like you, I was born into. Those I have gained through trial, and then these through ascension. You will have to asked more pointed questions, outside of asking for wines.” It was a small jibe, at this girls age Rhylana was already out into the world, had a lover and drank things a lot stronger than red and white wine.

Zephyra did not know the history and whims of the Knight family. She knew only what she read and there was so little on the Gods so far. She had read about the Lord of Shadows and Lies and it was rumored that he was the father of the one who burns and consumes all. She knew that he was not friendly and was quite arrogant and aloof and it never occurred to her that, perhaps, as it was with her and her mother that the apple might not fall too far from the tree. Instead she saw the Goddess as her own, separate person.
 
She watched Rhylana ease down towards an invisible seat that then made itself appear in the form of light and shadows. Her eyes widened momentarily at such a feat. Her mother did similar things but it was one thing to see someone else do it and utilizing far different elements. Servants brought their Goddess some tea that smelled of cinnamon and with it what looked like a sweet roll that was also coated in cinnamon. While she did not yearn for the tea, her stomach nearly growled at the prospect of sweet rolls in the beautiful place.
 
A laugh echoed into the antechambers and passed through the translucent fabrics hanging. She was laughing at how the Goddess refused to give her wine for her mother would descend upon the temple and crash it into the earth. While it was all very dramatic, Angela was known to be very protective of her children and it was certainly a possibility. Zephyra smiled broadly at Rhylana, a laugh still in her voice. “I’m afraid you are not too far from the truth, My Lady. Mother is very protective of her children and the Gods help whoever messes with them, even if they are Gods!”
 
Excitement filled the face of the young girl as the Goddess agreed to answer her questions. Now she wasn’t so certain what to ask to exactly get the answers she wanted. She had no knowledge of the Hunter and her mother’s interactions together so such a topic would not be brought up, at least not by her it wouldn’t be. Rhylana asked for more pointed questions and so she decided upon some and began throwing them out there. “How did you ascend. How exactly are Gods and Goddesses chosen?” She paused then added, “And what powers were you born with? They say you are the daughter of shadows. Were you born with those powers? The Hunter is he really your father?”
 
It did not occur to her that perhaps she was pushing too much and asking too personal of a questions. It did not occur to her that the Goddess may not want to answer some of these questions. But she was a bold one and asked away.  “Is your power just over the element of Fire or is it other things too?”

Hearing the girl’s stomach growl Rhylana snapped, a plate of sweet rolls and honied cakes appearing on a table between them. All at once the table had appeared, ready for the week load, the legs low enough to ensure the child would not have to rise too much to reach the goodies. Rhylana thought for a time, biting into her own treat as she cocked her head. “Your mother, I love her, and that is why I will not be getting her child drunk. This place took a great amount of arcane power to create, I did not use my divinity to draw it from the earth, but rather my own skills. To face her wrath would be most unpleasant.” Then she’d wed Dimitre out of spite, the thought left a bad taste in her mouth.

There was something to be said for such stead fast child, something she wasn’t sure about, but as the questions came, the goddess blinked, chuckling softly. “The Hunter is my father, truly, by blood and by birth rite,” there was no need to bring up the additional ways that Dimitre had fathered her, for a creature of light and goodness that would hardly be valid topic. The other questions were not so simple, as they went to God selection, a topic she had discussed with her sister, sort of.

“I do not know how the gods are selected, my ascension was a bit of a…confusion. There was a war in my homeland, I was in my father’s cathedral when a accident happened. The buttresses erupted into flame, and I was helping evacuate. I ran in one last time, and a beam fell, taking my life. With my final breath, I felt the fire enter my lungs, and the rest is a bit of a blur. I am told I fought with the other deities, however.” She smiled, thinking on the last bit, moving to sit upon the floor, the chair morphing into a long pillow to rest upon.

“I was born into the Knight family, The Hunter’s family. As a sorceress, I was not born with innate powers but more innately drawn to the weave. When I came of age, I was connected to the weave, and from that I gained access for my studies to come to fruition. Though I do seem to know how to draw the power and use it innately, studies were more for the difficult spells.” The final question made fire crackle and spark beneath her flesh, making her look like the prismatic gold stone veined marble that was the essence of her temple.

“I am the Goddess of Fire and Destruction, Fire is but an innate tool of mine, part of me, since I ascended to its throne first.It has stayed with me, and makes me warm and my life blood flow. Destruction feeds me.” This was all more literal than she should have been, but the lore would have it all eventually. “I gained destruction when I ascended further, the tree blessed me with it, and from that I grew.” The moral had seemed to galvanize what she was and build upon it, making Rhylana more than she could have been in her homeland.

No sooner had her stomach growled than the Goddess had snapped her fingers and a beautiful ornate plate and a small table had appeared. On this plate were sweet rolls just like the cinnamon coated one Rhylana was enjoying along with honied cakes that were full of sweetness. The table was just the right height so that she barely had to pick her bottom off the plush pillow to get a roll or cake and enjoy it. Her eyes sparkled with wonderment and curiosity. How did one conjure things from the air? Certainly she could conjure her chaos force from nothing but that seemed quite different than what Rhylana was doing.
 
“How do you do that?” She questioned as she leaned forward and plucked a sweet roll from the plate and took a bite. It nearly melted in her mouth, it was warm and the perfect amount of sweetness and cinnamon. Then she motioned to the table and the plate with the rolls and the cakes on it. “How did you make all of that appear out of nothing? I mean I have drawn upon my chaos force before from nothing but I have never brought something into existence.” She seemed so flabbergasted at the entire concept of making something from nothing.
 
Rhylana handled her bombardment of questions much better than she expected. Instead of getting angry and impatient, she merely laughed at her inquisitive nature and threw back her answers as swiftly as she could. So the Hunter was her father! Though, she did not understand why she made a distinction between blood and birthright, though she was careful to mention that she had both. It made her wonder if one could be a child through one means and not the other, but it seemed logically impossible.
 
Zephyra’s face fell a bit in disappointment when they went on to the subject of Gods and ascensions. She said she didn’t know how Gods were selected and that her own ascension was a bit of a confusing mess. It sounded very interesting to her, though. The cathedral at this place was on fire and when she went back in to be sure there were no stragglers a beam hit her and she died, only to have the power of fire surge into her lungs. It didn’t seem she remembered much after that. Only things she was told, like that she fought with other Gods.
 
She sat there thinking on what she was told for a moment and missed the chair morphing into a plush pillow not unlike the one she was sitting on. “Do you always have to die to be able to ascend?” It was a reasonable question to ask. But Rhylana was feeding her more answers about her life of being born into the Knight family and being a sorceress. What she said made sense, for while even Zephyra had innate abilities, she had to study to truly master them. “Do you have dark powers,” she asked hesitantly. “The rumors say you have dark powers.”
 
Suddenly the fire crackled and sparkled beneath her skin and she reminded Zephyra of the goldstone she had seen at the beginning of this journey. The Goddess told her that Fire was an innate tool of hers since she ascended to its throne but that she had also acquired the realm of destruction and that it worked to feed her. She wondered how literal she was being when she said that. “It sounds like a match made in heaven. Fire and Destruction together. Many people fear you and I see now why they do. For you could destroy anyone with ease.”

Rhylana blinked as the words came faster than the sweets did, she was amazed at the curiosity of the child and in that she was boggled with the questions. No sorcerer asked where things came form, no, it was that they created, they wove the weave and made things as they should be or how they needed to be. Rhylana had done the very same with the whole of her temple, for it was created in one night and perfected over the following evenings. She took a bite of her roll, debating how to respond. “Sorcerers are an interesting  breed, we are connected tot he magical weave itself, and it is with that power that we create. The rolls were merely summoned from the kitchen, hardly a feat of extraordinary magics,” She laughed. “Creation comes from pulling upon the weave and…weaving it to the needs of the sorcerer.” She demonstrated, letting her fingers dance through a series of ornate movements, while she was not as graceful as those before her, the movements would seem seamless to any other.

As her hand stopped, a glass elephant figurine sat in her hands, translucent save for a flame on the inside that beat to the rhythm of her heart. A piece of her sacred flame, and a symbol of luck all in one. Se smirked, “I have created from nothing, the flame is mine, but the glass I called upon the weave to create. I know the spells and the manipulations to do so. Sorcerers are innately bound to the weave after a certain age, and with that comes knowledge and responsibility. I am surprised Mother Earth has not mentioned this to you, she is a skilled spell crafter.” Her words were kind, though inquisitive of why the child should seek other deities when she had one at home.

Rhylana, once more, had to prepare herself for the onslaught of questions regarding divinity and ascension, eyes closed and lips pursed, she thought. “No, I am an odd case. Usually the powers that be merely install the divinity into a being, my time simply came at a moment the was less than opportune.” That was to say the least, she had consumed the souls of all hat had died that night, souls that would never reach her father’s afterlife, denied their rewards for being devout to the dark lord.

As the girl pressed, Rhylana blanched “Zephyra, that is not a proper question, asking if one is tied to dark powers. That is as good as asking if I were a demon. Naturally people fear me, and gossip, spread rumours and debase what I am. My power is far reaching, but its nature…I will not justify such a question with a response.” Mainly because Rhylana was a type of demon, or a monster, that part was not too terribly clear as it stood. But the answer that she did not want to give was one that she was not ready to admit to herself. Rather, Rhylana took a sip of her hot tea and looked to the sky, “Anything else young one?”

As curious and knowledge hungry as Zephyra was in her youthful age, it was no wonder that she rattled off her questions and concerns faster than the dear Rhylana could answer them. There was so much that could not be learned from books or scrolls. Certainly a book or spell scroll could teach her how to summon items from her own kitchen but what they could not tell her was how these things worked. They could not tell her how the world worked when someone made something out of nothing at all. But perhaps Rhylana could tell her and then she might understand.
 
Rhylana mentioned that sorcerers were ‘an interesting breed’ and she wondered exactly what she meant by that. The Goddess went on to say that they were connected to the ‘weave’ innately. Zephyra had heard of such a thing as the weave in her reading. It was the arcane plane as she understood it. But this made her head swim with even more questions for the poor Goddess. How exactly was one connected to the weave? What advantages were there to being connected to it? Could you ever lose your connection and what happened then?
 
Zephyra watched Rhylana’s fingers dance about as she tried to explain how things were created from the nothingness around them. It looked like a beautiful art, the art of spell-weaving. “It is very pretty. The way you… weave things like that.” Then her eyes widened as she saw the glass elephant figure that the Goddess now held within her hand. A piece of flame was trapped inside and it pulsed like an unheard heartbeat. With some hesitance, she reached out and touched the glass figure with her fingertips. It was as real as the pillow she was sitting on. She could feel a bit of heat from the flame inside.
 
Withdrawing her hand, she continued to stare at the figure with a sense of wonder. “Mother is very busy, so the information comes very slow. Besides, I just wanted to talk to someone who wasn’t of my home. And the books praise your ability with all sorts of magic. Mine is an unusual kind of magic- that is, it is of the mind.” To her knowledge her mother did not have any skill in the magics of the mind. But perhaps Rhylana would have some knowledge of it.
 
It was relieving to know that one did not always have to die to ascend to the throne. Should the great Voice ever call to her, she was glad to know that she wouldn’t have to first lose her life to gain the power. Rhylana, then, turned whiter than she already was and fussed at her for asking such a question about her dark magic. Finally she got frustrated enough to say she would not justify her question with a response. Zephyra blinked, unsure why such a question would offend her. There was no shame in wielding a dark magic. “Sorry. To me there isn’t any shame or anything in having dark magic if you do. All magic is a gift.” She shrugged.
 
“What of the weave? What is it like to be connected to the weave? What happens if you lose your connection or can you? Is there an advantage to being connected to the weave? I’m not sure that I am connected to the weave or not. My power mainly lies in the mental magics and some in drawing on the force of chaos.”