"Templar"
Character
Templar felt it. A pull, long before she knew of the world. A surge, sharp and potent, echoed across the void like a whisper. One moment she stood beneath the quiet sky of another place… the next, the whisper guided her here. Erinar.
Emerging alone this time. The Relic lifted her head, taking in the landscape that stretched before her. A world carved from fire itself. The horizon glowed with molten light, rivers of lava snaked between the obsidian plains. Ash drifted like snow. Soft, but burning. Settling onto her hooded cloak in layers. The air tasted of metal and volcanic gas, hot enough to sting even through her helmet's filter.
A deep rumble pulsed beneath Templar’s boots. The planet breathed. Boots crunching against brittle rock as she walked slowly. A molten bubble rose beside her. Pushing up from a lava pool. It expanded, glowing hotter until it burst with a wet hissing pop. Sending droplets of molten stone around. Templar only watched. Her head lifted up, attention shifting ahead. She felt them. Other force signatures. Faint, but present. She did not seek them out. Not yet. Instead the Relic followed the hum. The deeper resonance calling from beneath the ground’s crust.
As she walked, something unusual caught her eye. Color. Not the harsh reds and oranges of lava. Nor the charcoal-dark ground. It was something softer. Stranger. Alive. Templar slowed, tilting her head. A patch of color clung to a rock ledge where the heat rippled most violently. Kneeling down as she approached, obsidian dust sliding from her knee plates.
There growing impossibly against the planet’s volcanic molten environment was a volcanic flower. Its petals thin and translucent like glass, glowing with inner embers. Veins of gold traced through each petal. Pulsing ever so faintly with the heat, as if the flower borrowed fire from the planet itself.
A miracle in a place where nothing should survive.
Templar extended her right hand. The glove brushed the petals lightly and carefully. Plucking the flower with gentleness. She lifted it closer to the rim of her helmet so she could study its structure. Its glow. Its quiet defiance.
With her other hand, Templar reached behind her back. Leather creaked softly as she retrieved her journal. Weathered, hand-stitched with its edges charred from past journeys. She flipped to a blank page. The flower was laid carefully between its sheets, pressed gently as the journal closed. Later Templar would sketch it, document it, record its miracle.
Just as Templar was about to stand, another faint shine caught her attention. Something was glinting beside the flower she had just plucked. Half-buried in soot and ash, the object would’ve been easily overlooked. The Relic reached out and brushed the debris aside with the back of her glove.
A crystal. Small. Barely the size of a pebble. Yet unmistakably unnatural in its perfection. Templar picked it up. Turning it between her fingers. Even through the glove she felt a subtle warmth, as if the crystal held its own tiny furnace within. Its surface was smooth and glass-like. Faint veins of molten gold ran through its interior, shifting like trapped embers. When she tilted it, the veins pulsed. Dim, rhythmic, alive.
A sound stirred against her palm. A vibration. A hum so soft it was barely a whisper. The size of the crystal wasn’t strong enough to be dangerous, but the energy within it was unmistakable. Raw. Concentrated. Waiting.
Templar studied it a moment longer before slipping it carefully into her journal, nestled between reinforced pages beside the flower. The leather creaked as she secured it. Her head tilted slightly the other way.
‘…Perhaps,’ she thought, ‘Master likes crystals…?’
Despite her situation, the thought lingered. She would present Master with a bigger rock. (
Templar stood once more. The heat wind stirring ash around her boots. Looking toward the deeper plains. Toward the low pulsing hum of the crystals calling below. The deeper resonance ahead pulled her onward. Adjusting her cloak, she continued walking.
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