Slaves and Crimson [ Job | Aseroth ]

It had not been long since she landed once more upon the shores of Heliohapt. This time it was alongside her people, her family— the Corvus. Ages it has been since they migrated to new lands. Not even the elders could remember any place other than Reim. It was the start of a new era— a breath of fresh air.

Setting up their living accommodations was the most difficult hurdle they faced. Many were weary from travel, unaccustomed to the heat. But they managed. Their magoi was utilized, shared amongst them as her magic tools were passed between them.

Sustainable food sources came from her vial and hunting, while scarce, they made due. Housing given form through dry bushes and the usefulness of her ring granted them temporary shelter. Most of all, they had each other— as lame of a concept as it was. They would be nothing if it weren’t for their union.

After arriving to their shores, she had begun to hear about the rise of a militia. Their ranks composed of former slaves rallied to a unified cause.

Al-Shamshura.

A repeat of the mistakes she had done in Kou was unfavorable. But returning to their roots on the Dark Continent, it was much more imperative for her to be involved. As much as she would dread it, something had to be done to restore a semblance of peace to the land.

Speaking to the former slaves, she noticed they were reluctant to accept her aid. But they would direct her to a camp composed of their Fanalis brethren. All with a simple task to deliver food. Fortunately, she was able to do more. She could only leave them with her word.

In the camp, she finds a familiar face. It was unsuspected. They were both older now, but there was no mistaking it lest her eyes deceived her. She approaches him.

“Aseroth—” His name parts from her lips in a gasp. It had been so long. She could have sworn that he was but a specter. After all, many of the faces she once knew were dead. “Is it truly you?”

From the batch of newly freed slaves?

His words had her taken back. Once a flat expression broke as her brows slightly knit. It seemed all the time he spent overseas had fried his brain. She crosses her arms, a subtle smile appearing on her lips. Even so, he did remember her.

“I am,” she admits. “After retaking my responsibilities, I decided to move the clan to… newer lands. So, it only makes sense that we lend our help.” In other words, this was to be their home. Strange as it was to say it out loud. “You know, you would be one of us if you ever completed your trial,” she chides him.

The other Corvus with her were spreading through the camp, mingling with the other Fanalis. Large baskets full of food and supplies on their shoulders. An excessive effort to gain their favor with these people. But they had more than enough to share.

Even if they weren’t Corvus, these ex-slaves were their brethren.

“Come. Walk with me.” She turns, starting to walk to another part of the camp. There were too many mouths to feed to be standing around.

There is a slight smile that presses at the corners of her lips. In all her life, it had begun to feel as though she was doing something right. That her clan was more than just a horde of brutes. Every red lion she looked over was much more compassionate than that.

All of them were eager to help their kin and others amongst them. Even as thin as their resources were stretched, they had no qualms to speak of. They trusted her to keep them alive in this arid land.

Even Aseroth had grown strong and noble. A half-breed like herself, but no less a respectable Fanalis. “No matter what you are protected by us while you are here,” she says. Whether he could complete his trial or not held less significance than he thought.

“Every Fanalis you see here is family. Even if they can not subdue a mere serpent like yourself.” A huff of laughter passes her lips at the fondness of the memory. The children run around her in their gleeful playtime. She rustles their hair as they pass by, a fondness glowing in her eyes.

But as the peace was at its peak, she heard a scream call out from nearby. Diana whips her head in the direction, brows knit. There were no strange scents of blood or death. But the voice was shrill, panicked.

“We should check it out,” she notes, moving toward the sound.