The Pyre of the North

Ivras is vastly different from what she's used to. 

The magic here is so strong that it's almost in everyone, and her own magic? No one here deems her cursed, no one is horrified of what was prophesized for her. There was no legend here that she was a demonic doll possessed by a ghost. Everyone here is so nice, and it's so baffling to her. Honestly, she can remember staggering into these lands from the northwest. She had been haunted and hunted practically, spooked and horrified. They had been horrendous to her, but she had only ever offered love in return, so desperate for some sense of nice. It had never come back to her until she had stepped small hooves into Ivras. Here, she had found that others looked after her.

A kindly non-mage had found her collapsed by the side of the road that led into Faline. She had been so weak and dehydrated, that they weren't sure she was even alive. Flickering in and out of existence because of her magic. She had barely been able to lift her head, blinking golden eyes in and out of focus as she had drawn ragged breaths. They had helped her, gently offering to hold her up, walking her to Faline. There, she had found food and drink, and had cried. Wept into the food offered to her and gasped out questions. Why? Why were they so nice to someone they knew nothing about? They had answered her with simple replies that should have been obvious. Because, she needed help. She needed food, drink, to get back on her feet. She was such a small thing, why was she out there alone? The questions had gone unanswered, with Moon gently lowering her head and swallowing a lump in her throat that threatened to choke her. She couldn't bring herself to speak of where she came from, or why she was this way. But she had thanked them, and made her leave, much to their gentle horror, asking her to stay. 

"No, no. I can't stay, but thank you. This was more than enough for someone like me. Thank you, so much."

It had been simple, paired with a smile that had graced her lips for the first time in a long time, and she was out the door, and out of Faline not soon after. Faline, she had learned, was just one of a few large cities around this continent.

Even wandering the outskirts, passerby never looked at her twice. There were no sneers, no sharp glares. No threats. It was strange, but there was a burden that lifted from her shoulders, her breath had staggered out of her lungs and she had leaned her head back, basking in the light of the day that warmed her body where it touched, and she had laughed to herself softly.

That had been a few years ago. Now, she lives in a small village about a half morning's walk from Faline, somewhere to the north. Here, she lived among others, and newcomers that came through deemed her a ghost. If only because she was just that. Capable of vanishing through walls, becoming wholly transparent. Moon wasn't normal, but it was funny to her now that there were rumors of a ghost living in the village. She helped where she could, offered tea and food to anyone stopping by her tiny little stall she sometimes opened and manned.

This though. This wasn't something nice.

Fire, fire, fire! She had heard the panic and fear, and had taken off like a shot, hooves barely touching the ground as she bound her way through crowds, toward the barns and the fields. She could see the smoke; thick, black, and curling into the iron skies. There was a tinge of orange against the backdrop of winter, blazing hot and dancing in the bitter wind. Even this far from it, she could feel the heat rolling off it, almost unnaturally hot. It spit and thrashed under buckets of water from panicked farmers, and she found herself moving quickly.

Scooping up a bucket herself, she ran towards the water, scooping and running back, her legs shimmering and going transparent. Anything in her path, she simply stepped through, quickly making her way in a beeline toward the heat of the fire, throwing water on it. Rinse, repeat. Run for water, run back, throw it. It became a mantra in her head, fear in her eyes as she made the trip several times, panting for air until there was a stitch in her side after throwing another bucket, hissing between her teeth as she tried to breathe through it. The fires were dying a little, which was good. She could feel useful, and as she turned toward a farmer, opening her mouth, she heard it.

A shuddering, heaving sound. Rumbling deep, like metal screeching against metal. It was a roar, and that made her shudder in fear, her eyes widening as she slowly turned herself.

Out in the field, the blaze that had been going was growing rapidly. Growing taller, taller, despite having nothing to feed on. It rose, flames licking at the sky as it grew and grew, moving in such an unnatural way that it made the hairs stand up along her neck, goosebumps breaking out over her body.

It was a monster. A massive, horrifying monster.

Living where she had, she hadn't come across monsters. She had only heard of them, of the stories of mages fighting them. Only had tales of great hunts that were spoken in the tavern and the laughter of how they had defeated them. The last one had been somewhere south, in the jungles. It hadn't been a hard fight, but there had been stories of one that was before that, in the middle of Mead, and that it had dragged on and on. Harmless almost, no one had really gotten that hurt, but it gone on for so long that people had hissed at mages for weeks after.

This though... this was something else.

The wind picked up, blowing toward her, and instead of icy wind, there was a stinking heat that swirled around her, coming from the field. It was so far from her, but she could still feel the fires as if she was standing next to it. Panic rose up a moment, her throat closing as she tried to breathe. Her chest was heavy and tight suddenly, her vision swimming for a moment before she was nearly knocked over by someone that ran by. Her legs staggered, before she saw who it was. No one she knew, but this one had a look of determination, running full force toward the monster, and the tiny mage shakes her head a moment, clearing the fluff from her ears.

Suddenly, she could hear others, could hear them under the monster's roars, and her steps take her forward a little, head lifting a little higher to look.

Scattered around the monster are others, shouting to one another. What they were saying, she couldn't tell from this far, but each one was as determined as the last. Magic whizzed through the air, overpowering. It mingled with the taste of the sour magic from the monster, and she could only watch with wide eyes as the battle suddenly erupted in front of all of them. This, this was a great hunt, in person. This is what it was like, and instead of fear, she could feel small prickles of pride in her chest. Magic users, with their abilities, using them for good. This is what it meant to be a mage in Ivras.

Drawing in a breath, Moonghost turned herself toward the water and buckets again. She might not be able to fight the monster just yet, but she can still help more.