ROLEPLAY

Après avoir lu l'izam de Filira Salazar,
Canillia prend un Velin pour lui répondre.

Canillia se demande comment elle a encore pus s'embarquer dans cette histoire.
Maintenant Nils l'a pris un peu au dépourvu avec sa démission.

bon le Gamin est volontaire et travailleur, bien qu'un peu naïf peut être.

Lyssan entre discrêtement et donne une enveloppe scellé à la Nindën du Filira Ordre Alkane.

La Matis ouvre l'enveloppe et lit rapidement le "pédigrée" de Ser Cinabre.

"Okal, pas grand chose à dire..."



"Le gamin semble propre."

Canillia stands up,
It's early.
Pyr's heat prevents him from sleeping.
Light streams in through the shutters.
Léa, still drowsy, moves lazily in bed.

She's happy...

Her lover's training kept her busy.
Léa is now able to defend herself.
All it needs now is a real fight.

This week in the desert does them good.
It's a time to reflect on the future and enjoy life.

Even if she's here to verify a rumor, they should have come back sooner.

She dresses up and goes out "hunting" in the dunes.
If his information is correct, he should be there this morning, abusing his students.

Léa is at Pyr's bath. She's sulking and moaning to herself.

_"...You bugger!

...Incredibly, the old dwarf whistled and the proud Nindën matis came running, her eyes wet with tears...

...we're really going to have to talk to each other.
I'm not going to spend my life waiting for him.

She'll have to choose!..."

Canillia slowly closed the last report, her fingers clenching the leather cover.

Words blurred before his tired eyes.
Always the same problems, the same tensions that plagued the region.
The Marauders were extending their influence, and Akila, at the head of the Hidden Spring camp, was consolidating his power with relentless brutality.
Failed attempts, ill-timed blows.
Chaos seemed to reign, slipping like sand through Canillia's fingers.

She had hoped for a sign, a breakthrough, however small.
But the reports left no room for optimism.

As if that wasn't enough, Léa had left.

An absurd argument, triggered by an unimportant spark.
A misplaced word, perhaps, or that tense silence she knew so well how to maintain when she was at her wits' end.
Léa had raised her voice, thrown her hands in the air with that familiar exasperation.
Then she was gone, her boots pounding the house floor like a knell.

- I'm going back home to Pyr. I'll be waiting for you...


Altarae, posted a few yards away, had seen everything.



The old hominin, with her hunched back but piercing gaze, crossed her arms over her wrinkled chest.
His face, weathered by years in the dust and shadows, showed an almost comical expression of disapproval.

She strode towards Canillia.

- Oh dear!
Are you out of your mind?
Léa, she's not just a figurehead you put in a corner when it suits you!

- Altarae, not now... sighed Canillia, exhausted.

- Well, S'rae hasn't got the time?
I'm not going to teach you that you can't become a boss by snapping your fingers, am I?
But if you think that work replaces everything, you'll end up alone like an old sock with a hole in it!

Canillia raised her head, surprised by the harshness of his tone.

- I'm talking about life, kid!

Altarae added, hammering out each word with her hooked index finger.

The real one, not the one in your bloody rubber reports!
You've got to get your head in the game before everything that matters gets away from you!

Silence fell for a moment. Canillia lowered her eyes, biting her lower lip.

- She said she'd wait for me... but not forever," she murmured.

- Well, what are you waiting for to join him, then?
A kick in the derriere? Grumbled Altarae with a smirk.

Canillia smiled in spite of herself.
Altarae had a gift for reducing life's complexities to a brutal but salutary truth.

- Maybe you're just a smart businesswoman," concludes the old hominid as she walks away,

Pyr was sweltering under the merciless sun, and the heat made the air in the working-class district of Route du Sud vibrate.
The shouts of merchants, mingled with the yellow dust kicked up by passers-by, and the smells of spices, tanned leather and sweat filled the atmosphere.
Canillia split the crowd, taut as a rope ready to snap.

Eventually, she spotted it, leaning nonchalantly against a shady wall, a few steps from a small dried-fruit stall.
Lea stood there, arms crossed, an indecipherable expression on her face.
She wore her light Zoraï tunic tied at the waist, leaving her shoulders bare.

His gaze shifted to the Matis without any particular sparkle.

Canillia slowed down, her heart pounding in her chest.

- Hi," she breathed hoarsely.

- Hi," replied Lea, dryly.

A heavy silence settled in. The crowd continued to mill around them, indifferent.

- I've come all the way here to apologize," Canillia tried, feeling insecure.

Léa raised an eyebrow.

- Ah? So you found a niche between two reports?

Canillia felt the blow, but remained calm.

- I screwed up... I know I left you out.

- Put aside?" repeated Léa, inclining her head.


I wasn't "sideways", Canillia, I wasn't even in your field of vision anymore.

She straightened up, leaving the wall to face Canillia, her eyes burning with restrained anger.

- No matter how gifted you are, didn't you see I was burning up?
Didn't you feel that you were losing what we had?

Canillia lowered her eyes, the weight of guilt crushing her.

- I want to fix it," she murmured.

- Repair? Léa laughed bitterly. You fix a broken piece of furniture, not a story that's falling apart.

Canillia felt a wave of despair wash over her.

- Tell me what to do... Please, Lea.

Léa stared at her for a long moment, her expression oscillating between hardness and tenderness.

- What you have to do? Choose.
Between me and your damn secrets.

Because I don't want to be a shadow in your life, an option when you've got nothing else to do.

Canillia felt her legs buckle under the pressure.

- I love you," she breathed, tears welling up in her eyes.

- Then prove it," Lea said softly, but with implacable firmness.

The dam gave way.
Canillia burst into tears, her shoulders shaking with pain too long contained.

Léa looked at her for a moment, then her expression softened.
She took a step towards her, then another, and finally drew her into her arms.

- Come here," she murmured.

Canillia let herself go against Lea, her tears wetting the light tunic.

- You're a real head-turner, you know?" Léa breathed, gently stroking his hair.

Canillia lifted a face still ravaged by emotion, desperately seeking an ounce of forgiveness.
Léa finally smiled at him, that warm smile that had always been her light.

- But you're my head," she added, before kissing him gently.

The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of this suspended moment.

Yrkanis' office was bathed in soft light filtered through the heavy, dark-green linen curtains.
Outside, the familiar sounds of the city rustled, but here, everything seemed suspended, frozen in an almost palpable tension.

Canillia was sitting in front of her writing desk,
a single sheet of immaculate vellum laid before her, its header marked with the Tree of the Alkiane Order.
The quill, which she held firmly between her fingers, remained motionless, as if paralyzed by the weight of the words she couldn't write.

She closed her eyes for a moment, searching for a breath of inspiration that didn't come.

Memories swirled in her mind:
the years spent serving the Order, the missions carried out with determination, the sacrifices made without ever questioning them.
Every line of ink she drew would be a clean cut through this part of herself.

The first word finally landed on the parchment, hesitantly:



But she stopped dead in her tracks.
It sounded too cold, too administrative, like a simple bureaucratic missive.



She let out a hoarse sigh and crumpled the paper furiously. The thud echoed through the room.

- It's not that complicated," she murmured to herself, her jaws clenching.

Yes, it was.
Because in writing this letter, she accepted that this life dedicated to the Order was coming to an end.
She was turning her back on a part of herself that had made her a loyal Alkiën, an anonymous pillar of the Kingdom.

His trembling fingers grasped a new sheet of paper.
This time, she forced the quill to glide across the vellum without stopping.



She paused again. The silence was heavy.

His thoughts returned to Léa, to that final argument.
To this crying need to live, at last, for something other than secrets and missions.

She glanced out the window.
The branches of the Matis dwellings waved gently in the breeze.
Nature continued its course, indifferent to his torments.

Canillia felt a dull pain knot her throat.
"Duty is no longer enough," she thought with resigned bitterness.

A shiver ran down his spine, but with it came a strange sense of calm.
Perhaps this letter, this resignation, was not a weakness, but a form of courage.

The pen then traced the words with greater determination.

*I am resigning from the Filira Ordre Alkiane.

Writing it made her dizzy.

But she went on, because she had to see it through.

When the last line was completed, Canillia let go of the pen, breathless.
A strange mixture of pain and relief came over him.

She had finally found the words, and with them the strength to say goodbye.

She sealed the letter with a firm gesture, affixing the red seal that would bring her departure before the eyes of the Council.

Canillia stood up, holding the envelope like a weight that was both heavy and liberating.
She walked to the door, where her faithful Lyssan was waiting.

- Take this straight to the Council," she said in a voice firmer than she felt.

The homin bowed and left at a brisk pace.

Canillia remained motionless for a moment, her gaze lost.
Her heart still bled from renunciation, but something inside her had begun to heal.

The road ahead was still uncertain.
But for the first time in a long time, Canillia felt as if she were walking towards a life that would finally belong to her.

Canillia walks through the palace's endless corridors, her footsteps echoing faintly against the living walls.
The air is heavy, laden with the heady scent of Matis flowers. Yet an icy chill bites at her skin.
Around her, shadows dance, twisting into grotesque shapes that seem to follow her with their eyes.

It turns at an angle.
Suddenly, Léa's silhouette appears.
Her fiery hair shines in the unreal light, but her eyes are filled with sadness.
Canillia wants to get closer, but the ground gives way beneath her feet, and she falls into an endless void.

Léa's voice echoes around her, soft and distant:



The floor suddenly appears.
Canillia finds herself in the middle of the Dyron dunes, swept by a scorching wind.
War cries echo in the distance, indistinct silhouettes fight in a cloud of sawdust.
She runs towards them, her heart beating wildly, but the further she goes, the further away they get.

She sees it:
Lea, alone in the middle of the battlefield, surrounded by armed Fyros.
Their faces are distorted with hatred, their eyes blazing with anger.
Canillia screams, her voice breaking in the wind.
She wants to throw herself between them, but her legs are anchored to the ground.

Lea slowly turns his gaze towards her, his eyes cold, foreign.



She murmured before disappearing in a swirl of sawdust.

Canillia wakes up with a start, her heart pounding and her breath short.
The shelter is pitch-dark, lit only by the faint glow of dying embers.
She turns her head and sees Lea, peacefully asleep, her face relaxed, almost childlike.

A shiver runs through the old Alkiën.
The dream sticks to him, more real than ever.
She brought a trembling hand to her face, wiping away a tear she hadn't felt fall.
Léa murmured something in her sleep,
she moves slightly, but doesn't wake up.

Canillia gazes at her for a long time, her heart heavy.
She lies down again, staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open.
She doesn't dare close her eyes for fear of falling back into the nightmare.