[center][h3]Vaelyn[/h3][/center]

Stepping off of the ship, Vaelyn felt herself a stranger, most of all from herself. Ranshelm was as she remembered it, the years had changed little about the small village. Calmness touched her, traveling on gentle winds that drew forth from the ancient forest. Sweet scents reached her with each breath she took. Peace could to little to hide the mournful memories. Her recollections were scattered, shrouded with sorrow. Luisa had been so young. The fabled herbs of the island had not saved her, an unwelcome truth that filled Vaelyn with renewed bitterness. She would offer no forgiveness. It was she who had changed. And perhaps not for the better.

Vaelyn could not name the melody that had drawn her back to the Isle of Tiguarsne. But she could hear it. And she could feel it. Even in the gentle twilight. The ethereal rhythm that played over her heart. The formless tones that danced in front of her eyes. The song had not left her. She could not resist such a mysterious composition, she knew, but she held no such desire. Her friends made no effort to stop her. She had no ties of kinship to ensnare her, none that endured. She had nowhere else to be. One place was as good as any. There were uncountable stages for her to discover. And audiences in numbers that equaled those of the stars shining high above.

She had missed the sea. The salt lingering in the air. The sunshine surrounding the ship. The birds aflight in the distance. The journey had been pleasant, the sea more than kind. Vaelyn had easily mingled with the other passengers. Offering song and music in return for small amounts of coin. She regarded travelers with boundless affection, for they were a reliable source of income. They longed for reminders of some distant home and familiar songs to ease their anxious minds. She did not mind. It was time spent dedicated to her craft, to her instrument and her voice. And it was a chance to spread joy and share pleasure with strangers. With her fingers and heart kept busy, she had spent few nights awake under the moonless skies.

All thoughts of rest and food left her as she heard new sounds. Life and merriment echoed across the village, music playing not far away. The sounds of joy, accompanied by warm lamplight. A smile played over Vaelyn's lips and she caressed the strings of the lute she cradled in her arms. Darkness was no obstacle. Weariness could be easily driven away. Her feelings could be reshaped. And she had no time for the past.

A festival was just the place for a bard. And Vaelyn Silverstrider, bard of bards, had no intention of missing her chance.