Shalura clung for her life against the sparkling violet surface of the crystal cliffs. Strands of her pearl coloured hair brushed against her face in the wind. From above, the starsoars glided and watched with interest as this new trespasser tried to traverse the glittering gorges below. The crustal cliffs radiated with latent Shayma energy, enlightening the very depths of the valley which produced a glow in hues of indigo and sky blue. If one became disorientated enough, you could be convinced to release your grip and fall, fully convinced that you were plummeting towards the sky.
Shalura felt the warm hum of the Shayma crystals, they almost conversed with her in her head, coaxing her to end her adventure abruptly at the bottom of the valley. The shamans still struggled to ascertain the true nature of the crystals and the Shayma that radiated from it. But regardless of the truth, Shalura had to climb the sheer cliffs in order to earn her right to be an Arcane Hunter or more precisely, the first Arcane Huntress.
Reminding herself of her goal and her foolish reasoning for attempting this journey started a reverberating feeling of hope throughout herself. It was a common method for shamans to recollect on the past to ensure their current frame of mind. Forcing herself to continue her endeavour against not only her physical exhaustion but also the calm crystal calls that almost came from within her. She climbed, forcing her bare feet and sore hands into cracks and crevasses to hold her from the death below. Yet the trail did not come from grappling the vertical cliff face, nor hugging the cliff face but instead from climbing the smooth sheer crystal surfaces above her. Not a single fissure could be spotted on the gem face cliffs above her.
In order to climb to the top of the cliffs, Shalura would have to use the dormant Shayma within the crystals themselves to fashion her own footholds and hand grapples. The shamans knew any fool with enough physical strength could successfully scale even the grand Rock Tooth Mountains, but only a wielder of Shayma could reach the top of the crystal cliffs. No blade, axe or tool could break or penetrate the Shayma crystals. The only material strong enough to crack the gems was a tool made of crystal fashioned from shamans or Majai themselves, but these shimmering tools while invaluable and unbreakable, prefer to melt back into its mother source, rather than chip it away.
To the great dismay of many unfamiliar travelers who either were slowly pushed off the cliff face or those whom were unfortunate enough to be pulled into and engulfed by the crystals. A rumour true, but one that Shalura began to believe as she climbed passed human legs and boots. They stuck out from the cliff face horizontally, a cruel decoration for a cliff face that would otherwise be a beautiful sight to any traveler. Upon passing one pair of legs, Shalura had the idea of using these forgotten legs as a grapple to hold on to and perhaps rest her legs on, making the climb, slightly easier for her, but when the legs nearly kicked her in the face, she almost became skyfood for the starsoars.
In the end, the only way to travel upwards on these cliffs was to coax the crystals to do what you wanted. The only problem was that the glistening gems often tried to do the same to you. A trip up the crystals cliffs was less an audacious journey of muscles and more a month long conversation with the Taytan or Wisp of Death. Many ambitious Arcane Hunters turned back and descended when they began to traverse over the crystals. And even more simply plummeted, with few hitting the cavern floor as most were caught in mid fall by the starsoars that circled above. These predatory winged beasts grew fat on their feasts. With talons the size of a man’s head and the wingspan that surpassed most dwellings, it was a wonder that these flying blue feathered shades did not just pick people off cliff faces or abduct the solitary traveler that passed through the gouges below. But many shamans suspected that the starsoars instead either delighted in watching initiates struggle through the climb or were possessed by the Shayma crystals, and were thus a physical apparition of vindictive magical energy. But Shamans couldn’t prove that any more than they could demonstrate clairvoyance.
With every length that Shalura pulled herself up, she magically fashioned and molded her next grip from the crystals above her, merely a small protrusion to grapple onto. And later a rest for her callused feet. But every mold drained her of her own energy and her steps were a race against time as the surfaces of her magical crystal protrusions slowly crept back into the smooth gem surface of the cliff. If she was not careful or agile enough, she too would soon only become a pair of feet dangling from the cliff face or become skyfood for the starsoars and probably the gemface itself.
None of the shamans truly understood the gemfaced cliffs or the Shayma itself. They only understood how to bend it to their will, even if perhaps not as industriously as the Majaidid, half a continent away. Once every few generations, the elders told of another shaman gifted enough to become a Majai. Both a blessing and a curse, the prospective Majai, would truly be able to mold the world to his will but would also be under strict supervision or as some would see it, essentially a life of imprisonment and servitude to both knowledge and the Majai creed itself. It was a hidden terror and aspiration of almost all shamans, to one day be a Majai, and to understand the Shayma beyond any others. But unlike most shaman, Shalura desired a life beyond meditation and playing around with crustal baubles.
The plateau of the cliff face was slowly coming into view, the crystals, almost sensing their prey fleeing from its grasp, began to enhance their efforts to ensnare such a perfect shamanistic specimen. For a while, few truly understood the nature of the Shayma energy, rumours of its existence and essentially gossip of its origin were a plenty from both common folk and shamans alike. From a fallen star to the magical guts of the dead god of life and fire, Zakura, many had differing visions of how to explain the world they all found themselves on. The shamans tended to merely debate the meaning of all they could not understand while the common folk resulted to intoxicated fisticuffs but Shalura’s people, the Kalushi, were a relatively peaceful and nomadic tribe that prefer not to enforce their view upon others. This was not only true because of their lacking in a consolidated military might, but for knowing that none could truly know what really was nor what truly could be either. As Shalura saw it, what difference did it make when your skull eventually becomes a home to tumblebugs in the end.
Yet, as Shalura climbed the gemface cliffs, her mind continued to reminisce and remember her past and knowledge, mainly to combat the influence of the Shayma crystals. For as her shamanistic masters drilled into her, “If you are ever lost, return to what you know”, as it will combat any darkness, she later added herself. It was all she could do to keep the crystal clear voices from tempting her to release her grip from the cliff or to clench harder and become one with the cool gem surface.
Shalura’s mind returned to her favored origin story of how the Shayma crystals and inherent energy were simply always a part of the Varka and were born from darkness with no purpose. For why did one need a reason or purpose to see the light and beauty of the word around them? These views would be considered heretical and punishable by death in the Northern Sanctum, but in her head, none could know her views and she could trust her own heart.
For with a world born from nothing, nothing was expected and nothing was to come, which is why Shalura attempted to ensure her actions condemned positive ramifications for herself, others and those small critters around her. The comfort helped her continue to climb the gemface and now only a few arms lengths from the top, and her trial would soon be complete.
“Why not rest?” She heard an echo from within.
“just let it go” A another whisper spoke from between her ears.
“I’ve got summerberry crusts inside” A sweet voice invited her into the solid crystal exterior in front of her.
The voices resonated within her, almost as if spoken by a companion to her side, but it was no friend whispering these thoughts, instead just a mass of sentient crystallized energy that consumed the weak and foolish. For if she and other bags of flesh could be conscious of their existence why could not the Varka and the gemface? Some Steamers prophesied that thought and therefore life came from the brain we held in our heads but none knew if there wasn’t a crystallized brain in the gem face or within the Varka itself. It was clearly strong enough to communicate to Shalura, why could it not then be alive, if not by other standards than the known.
But all this did not seem to matter anymore to Shalura as the voice began to fade from her thoughts and as her hands gripped loose sand and dirt for the first time in hours. The warm softness of sun baked soil was a welcome feel from the cold and detached embrace of the gem face. Although a part of the Varka, the Shayma gems were always cool or cold to the touch, compared to the soil, sand or clay. And as her feet were planted onto the same warm soil, Shalura, collapsed upon her posterior and laid back to feel the warmth of the soil from below her and the sun from above. Her ebony skin soaking in the heat, she could feel her sanity returning from the perilous climb. She need only wait and summon the shamans who would soon greet and collect her from the gemface plateau but in the mean time she would need to fashion herself her own arcane weapon from the crystal caverns below her. Yet until then, some rest and perhaps a well-deserved nap in the sun was needed.