The Wild Heart of Arcadia

The sound of drums echoed through the clearing of the glade. Not far to the south one could hear the rushing white rapids of Snake River, if not for the loud drumming echoing loudly in the night.

A large bonfire burned brightly in the clearing as the three blind men with blue lips drummed away with an intensity rarely seen. If they could sweat they would be drenched. Their sinewy bodies moved in unison as the woman known as Ceres to the Plains folks, Aquira in Fang and Omen to those of Ostiarium, looked intently at the runes pattern she'd cast.

The strands of fate and the reach of the gods into mortal affairs were taking shape in ways she had not seen in a very long time.

"The Sand Horde rising. Sister Locust born of the enemies' faith and a broken ritual. Cracked Chains and Seals. The Bastard Son of Fate stirs in the Deep. A weapon reforged..." She whispered as she moved her hand over the dull coloured carved stones.

She reached into another leather pouch close to her crossed legs and pulled a handful of small polished bones. Closing her eyes and bringing her cupped hands to her lips, she blew lightly into the bones tossing them over the runes.

"Death, Vengeance and Sacrifice. An End and a Beggining . And from the ashes..." She paused looking at the pattern, studying the signs unsure of what she was seeing. "The Beasts unmasked. The Ether and the Void..."

An howl cut through the drumming. Nearer than last time. He was coming for her. Tied to the land boundaries he could not reach her yet. But He would keep trying. She looked past the circle of light bathing her camp to the edge of the Still Valley.

She looked back at her runes and bones. There was no turning back now...

The Wild Heart of Arcadia pounded as fast as her drums, in anticipation of what was to come. Of the stories still untold...