My name is Cessia Elister, I was named after my mother’s favorite flower. The Winter Cessia is an enduring flower that will bloom even in the harshest of blizzards.

I have always loved my name, though I grew up worrying about whether I could live up to its meaning.

My parents ran a tiny bookstore in an equally tiny town called Doreen, which bordered Adecus, the massive forest west of Falderen. Our family wasn’t wealthy, but we had a roof over our heads and there was always food on the table—that was enough for simple folk like us. It was a warm and loving home.

Most children spent their childhood playing outside. I spent my time inside the worlds within books. I was the strange bookworm the other children refused to play with. That was okay. My imagination gave me plenty of friends. I was fine on my own.

All the days I spent pouring over my beloved books gave me an education that was highly atypical for someone of my station. However, that knowledge also cost me my good eyesight.

Now, dear reader, I know what you’re thinking.

“Cessia, you silly uneducated commoner, poor eyesight is hereditary!” But I can assure you that no one in my family wore glasses. Wouldn’t prolonged eye strain explain it? I would have been more inclined to believe you if you said I might have been adopted. Wait, could I possibly…? You know, I had never thought of that...

And so, my life carried on as lives often do, and the knowledge my books bestowed on me found me an apprenticeship under the head clerk employed by the local lord on my sixteenth birthday.

Lord Daren Sturts, may have held the prestigious title as the Lord of Fourn, but he was a lecherous and lazy man who spent all of his time licking the heels of his social superiors when he wasn’t too busy chasing after women’s skirts. Meanwhile my master, the head clerk, and I managed his domain.

From time to time, Lord Sturts would gift me revealing clothes and request that I wear them. I did, but only on top of my drabby work clothes or underneath my seasonal heavy winter attire. That and the spurning gaze from my master was enough to keep Lord Sturts under control.

Apprenticing under my master, I couldn’t help but envy him. The way he could make someone above his station freeze with a single look, or even bring them to cower with words sharper than knives. Would a day ever come when a bookish eremite like myself could ever be like him?

When I turned seventeen, all of our lord’s sycophancy was finally rewarded—Lord Sturts was blessed with a promotion. He was reassigned to Castle Dormont as the Lord Commander of Adecus Domain, an imposing border fortress and the ultimate gatekeeper against all things foreign. I was to be his full-time clerk.

You may think that I was not thrilled to be working under him, but in all honesty, I was genuinely ecstatic. The pay was great, the food was even better, and if Lord Sturts began to have any funny thoughts, it never took much to outwit him. In his desire to pull me closer, Lord Struts had failed to realize that he had made me indispensable until it was far too late. I had become the shield which hid his incompetence.

Even so, I may have been fortunate that the assignment was a lot more difficult for the both of us. And, in no time at all, we learned firsthand how difficult national defense was. I refer to both Lord Sturts and I, but in reality, I was the only one who was neck-deep in paperwork.

There was even a time I was trapped inside the records archive for so long that the fortress guards nearly put me down as kidnapped. Time passed like this as the seasons seemed to blur together. An endless push of reams of paper up a metaphorical hill, only to see them crash back down again. I later came to learn a traveler word for this kind of lifestyle, “Sisyphean”. And yet, in our sleepy fortress, I felt fulfilled. This was, of course, until Castle Dormont fell. And to think that I could have avoided all of it if I had just taken my first sick leave the day the castle was taken and renamed Astorea by the “Travelers.”

I can still recount that day like yesterday. Actually, I can recount many days like that one… Yladian, Arachna, Azog, and Titanius—my memory seems to have become impeccable after I got involved with the Travelers. We may grow dull to surprises with time, but the Travelers have a certain way of leaving an impression.

Would you actually believe that the siege happened on my birthday? I was actually sick then, but I had thought to cheer myself up when I heard that Jamine Olivierre, one of the most famous Falderen patisseries, was going to visit the fortress to grace its personnel with the most heavenly and luxurious pastries known to man. It was Lord Sturts’s idea to invite him, and it almost made him respectable. My favorite was the cinnamon buns. I may have pocketed more than my fair share…

Unfortunately, it would turn out that a festival is a pretty terrible time to defend from a siege. It began with an unforeseen elven assault and progressed with equally unforeseen reinforcements from the mysterious Travelers to aid us. At the time I hid in the archive with the servants and staff as the castle trembled from all the fighting. Like the fickle but forceful winds of a storm, those same Travelers were at one moment keeping us safe from the elven invaders, and just as quickly sided with the invaders to take the castle in the next.

And through all of the chaos, the battle ended with Astor Balthas sitting on the throne. Not even one of my beloved books could have possessed an ending like this.

To this day, I possess no knowledge of what happened to Lord Sturts. When the fighting had ended, and it was clear that we were not the victors, the bravest among we servants and staff formed a coalition to parlay. To our surprise we were granted a private audience with the highest-ranking members among the Travelers who graciously spared our lives. In fact, they hired many of us.

The King of Astorea specifically recruited me to be his personal aide. I immediately said yes. At the time I felt that he may as well have asked me if I desired to keep breathing, faced as I was with the highly intimidating strangers who had just conquered us, namely the devious-looking Jack, large-bodied Aaron, the glaring Merkaba, and their respective guild members.

It was the first time in my life that I thought that I might die. I was a harmless, bookish, cinnamon bun-loving rabbit who had accidentally wandered into a den of wolves.

To my surprise, my new employer was benevolent, as were the rest of the Travelers. They treated me with respect and offered friendship a commoner like me was not accustomed to. In fact, I was earning even more than before. The blood that had been lost may have weighed on me, but at the time, I was determined to remain useful.

I learned so much, so quickly. Things that I never could have imagined even existed to learn. Many Travelers were adventurers who often brought back riches and resources to the fledgling kingdom. My favorite among them were the incredible chefs who introduced the “People of the Land” or “Landers” as we were referred to, to a whole new world of cuisine. How could one describe something so divine as a Pizza or Cheeseburger to someone who has not experienced it? The clouds that fate had seen to throw over my head had possessed some incredibly thick silver linings.

My first season as the sole royal aide of Astorea was stressful. How could it not be? I was civically managing the resources of the enemy of my former nation, Falderen. Even if I was graciously given leave, it was a given that I couldn’t return home to visit my parents without risking being captured and tortured for information as an enemy of the state.

It wasn’t until the conflict with Falderen was resolved the following year that I was given something Travelers invented called “paid time off” to return to see my family.

Until then, I distracted myself with work. Fortunately, a pair of Travelers nicknamed Green Hedgehog and Roomba volunteered to deliver my letters home every now and then. For that, I am eternally grateful.

It took months of convincing, but I eventually managed to convince my parents to move closer to me in Astorea. All of the salary and bonuses I had accumulated allowed me to help them open a quaint bookstore in the capital. It was as though we had come full circle in a better turn. Fact truly is stranger than fiction.

As the royal aide of Astorea, I helped bridge the cultural and knowledge gap between Travelers and we People of the Land. In exchange, I became something of an expert on Travelers.

Many Travelers speak strangely, referring to things Landers like myself don’t have any conception of. For instance, the king once tried to explain to me how Travelers arrived here from another world, which would make them something akin to a kind of summoned spirit.

Other Travelers mentioned something about a game, but I suspect that they were teasing me and politely laughed, as what they said made no sense to me whatsoever. I thought at the time that the magic that allowed Travelers to come to the world must be the same one that allows them to return from the dead.

Despite not understanding Traveler magic, I worked closely with Travelers who used their incredible communication spellcraft to relay information across long stretches of land. In those days, what often seemed impossible to me was made possible, or manifested in a way that I never expected. The new Traveler magics made the kingdom management so efficient that it put The Golden Age of Falderen to shame.

Although the fledgling Astorea appeared to possess a king like the Falderen I knew, the government structures of the two kingdoms could not be more unalike. For instance, positions and titles were rewarded through merit. I have never seen such a thing before. Astorea had manifested itself as a hierarchical nation of appointed knights.

While serving as the royal aide, I also worked alongside and became closely acquainted with many Travelers.

I organized the journey to the north to relocate the elves of Yladia to Astorea.

I helped the king assemble a fighting force against the Prince of the Fire Elementals, Azog. I witnessed as the tale of Eleanor Loan’s heroic leap into Azog’s core to destroy him spread far and wide. To this day, I have often daydreamed about myself being the heroine of that story.

However, none had left as deep of an impression on me as Ursa, a hapless Lander who became deeply involved with the Travelers and who gave her life protecting her treasured allies. I have never felt so proud, and yet so heartbroken.

Ursa’s death forced me to come to terms with my own mortality. We Landers may be able to live alongside Travelers, but we do not die like them.

To be fair, while Travelers do return from death, they are not immune from harm. I still recall when King Theodore kidnapped and tortured a number of Travelers, including our own King Astor and title-holders under him. Those of us who escaped that ploy had to muster every available resource to rescue them.

I still remember when they returned home. Many of those Travelers, including the king, were never the same. I learned then that Travelers are not gods, though they may be akin to powerful spirits, they at times can even seem more fragile than we Landers.

And yet, regardless of how hurt they were, the heroes of Astorea rose to fight once more. While the strongest of Travelers went on to assassinate the King of Falderen, the rest of us remained and braced the walls of our capital. Many people gave their lives to protect our home nation. It was the first time Travelers and Landers came together as one united people to repel the enemy from our Astorea.

Even now, I can still perfectly recall dropping everything and holding the nearest person to me, crying when I heard Astorea had won the war. It wasn’t just me either, everyone felt the same that morning. The kingdom that we had built would preserve.

Peace didn’t last long, however.

Astorea’s next challenge would result from our discovery of an ancient monstrosity we encountered during the exploration of a large canyon near our border. We were, however, not only ones who faced this problem. Across the canyon resided Tertoria, another human nation that had long since been in conflict with the monster. After we established a relationship with Tertoria, Astorea would forge an alliance with Tertoria and set out to vanquish their common enemy for good.

Titanius, however, wasn’t a threat like any other we had ever faced. It lured Astorean fighting troops into a losing battle within its stomach and psyche. Many Travelers and Landers perished in the fight against Titanius. The victory against Titanius was a costly one.

It was around that time that Travelers learned that their immortality had limitations. When the results of an investigation into a Traveler named Sean surfaced, we Astoreans learned that Travelers who have died three times lose their unworldly magic and could no longer return to their original world. Chaos slowly brewed.

Unbeknown to most Astoreans who were still recovering from the scar inflicted by Titanius, instances of murder began rising in our land. Reports of Travelers killing their own kind escalated. Travelers called it “PK,” or “player killing,” a crime which had been outlawed and severely punished since Astorea’s founding. Many of the Traveler royal advisors suspected that the new information we had uncovered on Traveler mortality was the cause for the uptick of murder. Could it have been jealousy over the number of one’s lives? Or perhaps a new opportunity to settle old grudges. To this day, I cannot be sure. Unlike the usual instances of PK that had occured in the past, however, Landers were caught in the violence this time.

I couldn’t remember what day it was, but Astorea was drenched in heavy rain when I received a report from one of the knight captains that his unit had found a man and a woman’s bodies in my parents’ shop.

I felt as though my heart was going to burst when I confirmed my parents’ identities at the barracks. I would never wish the pain of that day on even my most hated enemy.

I’m not sure why the tears didn’t come at the time. I handled the logistics calmly. It was especially difficult to procure a lot at the cemetery in the wake of Titanius’s victims. I arranged for a private funeral and hid it from everyone. I couldn’t selfishly impose my grief onto others, who were busy mourning losses of their own.

I don’t remember ever setting foot in the shop or my home since then. I spent all of my waking moments working at the palace. Nothing felt real.

I wanted so badly to embody the meaning of my name, the enduring Winter Cessia, but I couldn’t. I buried everything deep under the familiar piles of paper that had become my life.

Around then, the king had declared his intention to abdicate the throne. It was not even a full turn of the moon before Astorea was thrust into civil war. Titanius, the mortality of Travelers, political rivals, and everything else a burgeoning nation faces came to a head at once.

Despite working for him for two years, I couldn’t comprehend why the king made the decisions he did. It was only a year before that Astorea stood united against the tyranny of King Theodore. Why did he wish to tear the country apart? What had we been working so hard for?

In a private conversation, the king later told me that he had lost his Traveler’s power and feared that if he were to die, he could not guarantee that his successor would rule fairly. King Astor told me that it was best to distribute power equally to the people, and the first step toward achieving that goal was to tear down the foundation of the country: the aristocrats.

At the time, I didn’t have the mind or the heart to imagine the vision he had for Astorea. I could only listen in silence as the last place of comfort I possessed was torn away from me. It felt as though one of the people I admired the most in the world, whom I had laughed and cried alongside of was about to leave me. In that moment I had truly lost everything, and at last, I felt the tears begin to flow.

...It was going to split the country at such a critical time, turn people against one another, introduce an instability that would weaken the nation…

Kindness can be a poison. Astor Balthas had been naïve and I indulged him. I didn’t want to be abandoned. I wanted to do a good job and be commended like in the past. It was the one aspect of the job I loved the most. It was what I had spent my whole life working for.

Disillusioned by grief, I spearheaded the Vigil and swore to serve the next ruler, apprehending those who resisted the crown without mercy. All to bring liberty to people who didn’t want it.

In my heart of hearts, I remember my first encounter with the Travelers. That day came quickly without a single warning. So too, did The Day of The Great Disappearance, the day all Travelers who had not yet accumulated three deaths vanished into thin air.

Confusion broke across Astorea as the fighting completely stopped. Now, only powerless Travelers and Landers remained.

Without the Travelers' communication ability, the entire kingdom plunged into an inescapable silence. Astorea was developed with Travelers in mind, and without them, it completely stopped functioning. It brings to mind the tinker’s toy sitting on my desk, without anyone to wind it, its life simply ceases—just like that. In the moments when I wind it, my mind sometimes wanders to those Travelers I met who were laughing about a game. Was Astorea a game to those Travelers? Are our lives a toy?

Those who resisted the crown, which were a faction of aristocrats made up of Landers and trapped Travelers declared an early victory since the remnant of the loyalist fighting force was not numerous enough to apprehend them.

Some few weeks after The Great Disappearance, King Astor brokered peace with those he previously fought against in a desperate attempt to reunite the broken nation. The secessionists agreed and the situation was left at that. Life had gone in another circle, only we were worse off than when we began.

Without Travelers, life became exceedingly difficult in Astorea. Threats that had been kept at bay by the adventuring Travelers steadily invaded our vacant nation which was stretched far too thin.

The breaking point, however, was far too sudden. One night, a report arrived on my desk detailing a disturbance in the sky a few hours prior. Fearing the worst, I rushed to my office window to see several airships making their violent descents like a comet. They appeared like angry dragons leaving behind a long fiery trail that lit up the night sky. One of these ships crashed directly into the Astorean Capital, leaving behind nothing but a sea of flame.

A guardian angel must have been protecting me that night, as I managed to escape the destruction with my life. Some might wince at the prospect of the markings on my seared flesh, but I wear the remnant of that night’s fire on my arm as a badge of honor, as a testament to the makings of a girl who had once only adventured in the world of literature.

The panicking, the adrenal rush, the desperate flailing to survive—had the Eleanor Loan in my daydreams felt this way? Never in my life did I imagine I could be so athletic, considering the hell my legs must have went through.

There were many who weren’t as fortunate as me, trying as I might, to save who I could. Those who managed to escape that night sought refuge in Finweald. There, we put together search parties to find survivors, and organized our surviving surveyors to scout the gargantuan metallic corpse that had embedded itself into Vintergard, our home.

Among the wreckage were things we—even the remaining Travelers—had never seen before: technology powered by magic. An entirely new way of thinking. I still possess the report from one of our scouting parties. Getting too close to some parts of the ship activated automated defenses that annihilated anyone who dared uncover its secrets. We entered a complete standstill from the lack of experts to brave that kind of danger. How many more lives could Astoria risk to lose...?

Now, our only clues must be sailing the skies westward to Tertoria, bringing with them a new threat. Astorea once again will have to rise to face a new crisis, as it has so many times before... This time, however, I fear may be the last.

To be continued...