[center][h1]The Gift of Maha[/h1][/center] [center][b]I[/b][/center] Sylia looked over the plate of Egrioth that Galaxor had owed her, the debt now settled. Her mind was abuzz with potential within her chamber of the Atelier. The matrix of the plate was unlike any she had seen before. Dense, durable and otherworldly. The interweaving plates were made up of layer upon layer of intricate scales, almost akin to a reptile’s but not. The difference was there was no reptile that walked upon the earth that had such unmoving skin. If this was the actual skin of the monster. A part of her almost wished she had asked for more samples but alas. What she really wanted to know was what had prompted the creature to produce such thick armor, wherever it had come from. What existed beyond the stars that it would need protection from? Some answers she would never receive but at least she now had a material she could use to craft her own protection. [center][b]II[/b][/center] Busy roads. Buildings made of the purest marble, the brightest granite, or the smoothest sandstone, all reaching for the skies. Minutes passed. Whispers everywhere. Strangely, given how busy it was, she had no trouble shuffling through the main roads. Oh, she thought as she stumbled on a slightly raised stone brick, it must be because of her. She smiled. It was a shaky smile, and it quickly turned upside down. She bit her lip and hugged the package she was carrying as tight as she could against her body. It was killing her, but it was either her or- Warmth. Not just from the sun, but of something crumbly and delicious. A pressure on her cheek. She couldn’t see well, but after a turn of her head and a flick of her disheveled hair, she saw a chubby man next to her, offering her a loaf of bread. Freshly baked… It smelled so divine that for a second, she nearly let go of the package. Instead, she steeled herself. She could only afford a miniscule nod before carrying on. [center][b]III[/b][/center] Step after step. Her whole body shook with each one. Her legs were like jelly, her lungs burned, her stomach had long since stopped rumbling, and her clothes were soiled beyond recognition. The staircase at the entrance to the Atelier was, at that moment and to that person, a harder climb than Mount Nari. It came out of nowhere as she reached for the last step. A flash. A warm grin on a small face, missing a tooth. She smiled back, and as she started to laugh, her footing slipped and her heart dropped. Next thing she knew, she was on the floor, right at the entrance of the Atelier, and a couple feet in front of her was the package she’d been carrying. Almost as long as she was tall, she noticed, and covered in a dozen layers of cloth and leather. It took her a couple seconds to realize that it was there, and not in her hands. It didn’t take longer than that for her every nerve to light up. It was a jolt, a pulse, but it was enough for every muscle in her body to tense up as hard as they could. Several bones cracked. She screamed, and lost consciousness. Next thing she knew, she was waking up with both hands on the package. She must’ve dragged herself to safety, she thought. She failed to register the crowd around her, pointing and whispering at her prone, wheezing, broken form. She barely registered the imposing metal figure that approached. “Stay back.” A cold but lovely voice spoke, before coming to a stop in front of her. The figure crouched and placed a hand underneath her chin, lifting with practiced care. The cold touch brought lucidity and she found herself staring into molten eyes bright as silver. “What is it you carry that keeps your heart beating, girl?” The metallic woman asked. She basked in the feeling, the support, but only for a second. “It is… cursed… it makes you walk… if you take your hands off it, it kills… and if you touch it, you're next… ” The girl explained, the exertion was almost too much for her. “It took everyone… everyone. Maha’s mate… Maha’s friends… M-Maha is so…” she sniffled. “Maha has to give it to you… it tells Maha… but, if Maha does, Maha will die… Maha doesn't want to die!” she exclaimed, expending whatever energy she didn't have to grasp the package tighter, trying her best despite her screeching bones and muscles to drag it closer. The woman’s impassive eyes seemed to bore into her soul. “Who or what gave you it to carry, Maha?” Her strength gave out, and she let her hands rest on top of the package. “Maha’s mate’s retainer… retainer said a Shade gave it to retainer… told retainer it was the Sleeping Presence… Maha thinks. Far west, in the sacred lands…” “Metal-kin is not like Maha’s… Maha thinks. Maha… must give…” she whimpered, once more instinctively grasping onto the cloth covering the package. “Maha will fade… will die… no future, no past. All gone. Scared. Don't want that… but if Maha doesn't give the metal-kin the package, Shade will make Shah give it.” She let go and in that moment, with the Metal-kin still touching her, Maha felt something bend and then shatter completely inside of her. She was aware of nothing and everything, all at once. She was old and young. Infinite and finite. An ocean and a rock. Breath and void. Then she was back and it was as if her body threatened to collapse into dust. She felt like a dried and crumbling animal hide, held together by the faintest thread. One strong breeze and Maha would be no more. Then something hot and tinged with metal flooded her mouth, running down her throat and binding herself back together like thick glue. It was too much and blackness swarmed at the edge of her vision. The last thing she saw were those molten silver eyes watching her. A voice flooded her mind whilst it slipped into unconsciousness, and it was the Metal-kin’s, “You will not die this day, Maha. I’ve use for you yet.” [hr] Sylia placed the once dying beastfolk girl’s head on the floor. She was stable, the curse on her soul was faint, just potent enough to cause death but easier to break. She then looked at the package before reaching out to pluck it up with ginger hands. The weight of the thing became apparent as she stood and she was more than impressed that Maha, in her state and size, had been able to carry it. Ever so carefully, she began to remove the leather and cloth that bound it. She had not been expecting it. Hadn’t wanted to believe the moment she saw the pale metal. The rest of the leather and cloth disintegrated in a thought and Sylia with her crowd of craftsmen gathered, fell into shocked silence. The warm metal hummed softly, as if it was glad to be seen by the world at last. A rod of pure Divinium, truly forged Divinium. How it had ended up in the hands of mortals, who had given it to them and for what purpose, the Metal-kin did not know. It left far more questions than answers. The warmth of the thing seemed to sear itself into her skin, for with a subtle expression, Sylia flexed her fingers and faced the clear skies of Sylann. “Heal, wash and clothe her while she sleeps. Take her to my chambers and keep a watch until I return.” Was Sylia’s only farewell as she took off. Maha’s words had intrigued the Goddess. The Far West. Sacred lands. What could be so sacred there? It turned out, after a search that took her far from Sylann, that the Divinium Rod's energies were laced through piles of scattered dust. Some lay intact, others were scattered by the wind and rains, reclaimed by the earth. It would have been the same fate Maha endured. Each of the trace amounts led Sylia back to a worn down and battered wagon, half decayed, with wheels crumbling. She settled down next to it and approached. Immediately she became aware of the energy lacing the air, originating from a large trunk in the back. It was a stark contrast from the rest of the wagon, for it sat pristine and seemingly untouched by the elements. With a touch, the wagon turned to ash and a loud thud followed, as the chest fell to the floor. With a flick of her wrist, the chest opened and Sylia was met with a stench of death, intertwined with two distinct energies, though she could only place one- Lareus. She cringed at the thought of that creature wishing for it to meet its master. Sylia peered down into the chest and saw two black bags. She plucked the one she was sure was Lareus, or whatever was left of him, and opened it slightly. She was met with a vision, like a million eyes watching the death of the world. A sharp pain before a friend. She closed the bag and looked at the other. The implications of the two bags weighed heavy on her mind. They had died. Sylia picked up the other bag and peered inside. There came no vision this time, just a sad blackness. The emptiness of a once proud soul. She knew not the name of the deity but grasped the domain it had once lorded over. That of the soul. She closed the bag and looked back inside the chest. Beneath a few scattered flies, there lay something bound in cloth. She conjured a belt around her waist and tied the bags there, then grabbed the thing and lifted. The leather fell away to reveal a dark metal shield, of average size. It twinkled softly, almost as if it needed the night to show its depths. It was made of… The thought popped into her head- Ir-Vaerilite. And Sylia knew who it belonged to. One final check of the chest revealed nothing more of note. So Sylia took her prizes and returned to the Atelier. A smile crested her lips, for there was a great deal of crafting to do. [hider=Summary] Sylia marvels at the plate of ergiothththt, and then we cust scenes to see a lone plainstalker cat girl walking through Sylann carrying a package. She avoids contact with anyone and walks up the steps of the Atelier, where she trips and drops the package. This results in a great deal of pain and she blacks out, only to wake up holding the package again. Sylia arrives and asks some questions and we find out that Maha, delivery catgirl, had a lot of friends and family die trying to get the package to Sylia. Maha didn’t want to die but lets go, compelled to and she about dies, if not for Sylia breaking the weak curse. She instructs some folks to heal, wash and clothe Maha before she takes to the sky. Oh and that package turned out to be a Pure Divinium rod, capable of changing to be anything Sylia wants at any given time. So Sylia eventually finds a broken down wagon with a lot of dust piles along the way, and finds a chest. Inside she finds bags full of a few remains of our dear boys, Larues and Voi. She even finds a shield for Althea. The end. [/hider]