Snow Over Coerthas
Reflections of Vanya Elentari of The Midnight Order
I left the church in the simple robes I had arrived in, my armor still packed away and strapped to Lomelindi’s saddle. I didn’t feel much like a knight today. The steel was too heavy, and so was my heart.
The trail north into Coerthas bit with cold winds, but they were nothing compared to the weight I carried. I kept my hood low, hoping the wind would hide my thoughts. It didn’t. The memory of that day stayed sharp—seeing the Garlean spy, the flash of their colors, and the sudden, blinding surge of fury that took me.
I hadn’t thought. I hadn’t spoken. My magic leapt from me before I even realized what I was doing, fire blooming across his body. When the flames died, he lay still in the snow. Only then did I feel the enormity of what I had done. No warning. No words. No honor. Just an execution born of rage for what his kind had done to my friends.
I didn’t know if he’d even meant to harm me. That thought clawed deeper than the wind. I couldn’t bear the guilt, but I couldn’t let it go either. So I hid it—hid me. A mask from my pack, pulled over my face, not for protection, but to keep anyone from seeing what I’d become.
That mask stayed on as I crossed into Ishgardian territory, my presence met with suspicion at every turn. My own hidden face probably did nothing to earn trust, yet I had no intention of removing it. I told myself it was to keep the cold out. That was a lie.
Not all hearts were so closed. At Camp Dragonhead, I met Lord Haurchefant. His welcome was warm enough to melt more than the snow—it reached something in me I thought buried these past moons. He asked nothing of my past, nor why I hid my face. Instead, he saw a traveler in need and offered shelter.
It was the first time in many days I felt the cold begin to loosen its hold.
