Hortar clasps your forearm firmly. “Aye, I’ll keep an ear out for you. Travel well, and take what you can. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Blottur skips over to you when called. “I’s ready, miss. There’s so much out here!” He laughs to himself, before shyly looking at Hortar. “Thank you, mister. You’s be okay; the rock sings when you walk.” And with that parting comment, you and Blottur begin your journey across Ryvauld, leaving a perplexed Hortar staring after you.
You are used to long journeys, having travelled far through the underdark, but you barely notice time passing as you see the strange sights of the surface. Long plant-growth sways in the wind just beneath your nose, vibrant greens and dusty yellows. A small rodent with long whiskers and an even longer tail scurries past you before vanishing into a tangled shrub. A loud caw draws your attention upwards to a small feathered beast, wings outstretched and talons gleaming in the starlight as it floats aimlessly on the breeze. As your gaze is upturned, you see a large grey mass floating in the sky; shaped like a glassblower, a bulbous end is quickly thinning and elongating as it is pulled through the sky.
As you walk, the pink of the sky behind you gradually grows brighter and brighter as it spreads out across, turning almost orange in a way eerily reminiscent of flame changing colour as it heats. Perhaps this is a good metaphor, as the gradual brightening of the sky stings your eyes worse and worse as it goes on, no matter which direction you face as you walk.
Despite walking west, the moment the sun crests the horizon is as clear as day to you. You dare not turn to face it, no matter your curiosity; the light around you immediately flips from a typical illumination to being bathed in golden fire. The surface world is cold, far colder than the earthen depths you are used to, and yet the light brings you back to the roaring furnaces of your home. Your exposed skin prickles with something reminiscent of faerzress, except angrier. You find some small solace within the folds of your hood, but you are forced to stop as the watering of your eyes obscures your vision.
Blottur turns to look at you when you stop, and gasps aloud when he sees your face. “Miss Saphire, miss! Is you being okay?”
In response to his cry of concern, you hear another voice somewhere off to your right call out in common. “Here now, did you say something Jhiro?”