Ymon-Thal, 14/50 AP, the Passing

Such an odd feeling.

Sitting next to the River of Purity, Thal-Verys watched her own reflection in the running water. At least she looked the same, if you ignored shimmering cloak draped over most of her body and the tiny sun hovering just over her shoulder, its light barely visible beneath layers of cloth and leather. Not to mention that the eyes meeting her gaze were like full moons, pale and glowing.

No, maybe she didn't look very much the same, Thal-Verys reconsidered. But she could get used to that, would get used to that. She was less sure she would get used to how she felt inside.

She still remembered everything about her life, probably with greater clarity than ever, but it didn't really feel like her life anymore. Her childhood, her loved ones, even her journey to the Stonethroe Mountains and great Nestellbam speaking through her... felt like it had happened to someone else. As the connection to that life — her life — faded it had been replaced by a connection to souls flowing around her, as easy to reach out and touch as the water flowing before her.

Whoever Verys of the Aeons had been, she had died of a spear in the Stonethroe Mountains. Time would tell who Thal-Verys of the Passing would turn out to be. The chain binding Alatadriel's gift to her rattled as Thal-Verys stood up, gripping her staff and book.

"Are you ready?"

As she turned around she saw Ymon leaning against a tree she was certain hadn't been there before.

"Yes." Her voice was different too, she noticed. "I am ready."

"Good", Thal said, appearing next to Ymon. "Time to go."