They were coming.
They were coming, and all Porom could think of was run, get out; but her tiny legs wouldn’t move, and she stood there, frozen in time.
Helplessly she watched as several of Baron’s elite forces, the Red Wings, came forward in Mysidia’s homeland, and proceeded to slaughter the innocent. The screams of the defeated wafted in density upon fragile ears, and she cowered, unable to do anything.
One of them finally approached her: “The crystal, or your life!”
Porom raised her hands in surrender, but it was too late…
- - - -
Out of breath, the Mysidian awoke from her dream with a jolt. Her first impulse was to scream, but all she did was look around in terror.
Oh, that’s right; I’m on a boat, exploring new places, she reminded herself, dark blues meeting with the water surrounding the craft. She had fallen asleep somehow, curled up in a chair. How she had ever gotten the Mysidian Elder to let her go on this ‘trip’ was of complete wonder.
As she stood to stretch her arms and legs, the White Mage heard a particular voice: “Land, ho!”
Good. We must be here, she realized with a clap of her hands in thanks.
The moment the boat docked, she eagerly rushed off, though at a gentle pace, wondering what new land she might’ve found to explore…