Just Trying to Survive (Velania and An’Ahkrim)

Following on from the events of A Lunar Missive.

An’Ahkrim, the last of the Heralds of Blade and Ash, lives the life of an exile, deep in the Angelbark Forest. He is haunted by his dark past, and struggling to deal with concepts that are still new to him: guilt, forgiveness, redemption. Velania worries about him – how could she not? Having put herself at risk to help him, she finds herself reaching out when she can.

“You do not have to to this alone,” she once told him. And she means it.

Co-written with the eternal source of wonder that is Lykksie  💜💜💜

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The late summer sun is dipping, heavy and orange on the horizon, when a tentative voice floats into An’Ahkrim’s mind. “An’Ahkrim. How have the past days been? Checking in with you from afar is the best I can offer for now, I’m afraid.”

The reply is instant, and at the same time unsure and hesitant. “You’ve done more than words can say, Velania.”

There’s a pause. “...I’m alive. Painfully. Unsure which is more tender - the body or the mind. Stay in touch.”

She thinks that’s the end of it until a quiet whisper reaches her. “Please.”

It takes a minute or two before another message arrives. Her voice is a little heightened with concern and relief. “Good… … … I mean, take each day in turn… “

She pauses to deliberate. “Can you tell me what you’ll be doing over this coming month, before I contact you again?”

His reply carries a small note of relief as well. She can hear the small smile in his voice. “Laying a new foundation. Literally and figuratively. I’ll be here. Building a house. Living, painfully. The normal way. But I’ll be alright. Speak soon.”



Some days later, on a warm, dry afternoon at the end of the month, Velania is sitting in a quiet copse of trees, a little way outside Daring Heights.

“An’Ahkrim, I hope you’ve been looking after yourself…? Are the foundations down yet? How has the building work gone this week? … Literally or figuratively,” she adds with a cautious smile.

The voice that answers is rough. Weary. “Velania. I’m… so tired. Every day is decades long. Every brick weighs a ton. Every night is an endless recollection of the horrors I have-“

She gives a long exhale which makes it into her sober reply. “You sound terrible. I know this is hard for you, though I can only imagine how hard. I am listening, though. You are not forgotten.”

It takes a long moment before his voices returns, slightly steadier this time like he took a moment to collect himself. “I’m sorry. This is my burden to bear, my long walk home. Not yours. But I’m grateful for the mercy of your company nonetheless. Thanks.”

Velania’s tone takes on the inherent calm of a patient teacher. “Can I ask something? Not to apologise to me. You’re navigating an unfathomable learning curve. It’ll take time, maybe even false starts. Keep on building.”

His voice is quiet and somber, but filled with an undeniable resolve. “I can’t apologize to those I hurt, so I must be giving it to you.”

He sighs, and Velania can practically see him consciously relaxing his shoulders. She can hear it in his voice anyway. “Rain’s coming. I gotta patch the roof. Don’t be a stranger.”



Several days into the next month; a mist of drizzle in the air. It’s not truly cold yet, just grey and muted.

She speaks with kind determination. “An’Ahkrim. I saw Marto. The blond warrior. He asked after you – in a concerned way. He cares. People are invested in you. So you know.”

His voice is perplexed and a little amused, and there’s a dry chuckle in there somewhere. “I... don’t know what to do with the feeling that elicits in me. So. I’m going to keep drinking this tea.” He phrases it almost like a question and then tacks on, “...I drink tea now.”

A mild surprise in her voice as she replies. “…an underrated pastime that requires no further unpacking. Like all the simple pleasures.” After a breath, her tone becomes slightly more formal. “Full moon in three nights. I hope she has a clear sky.”

His reply is quiet, almost like he’s musing aloud to himself as much as answering her Sending. “Our relationship is... strange. I don’t know who the Moonmaiden and I are to each other. Perhaps she’ll allow me to behold her. Be safe.”



At the end of the month, the wind whips large grey clouds across the sky, creating a deceptive contrast between the warmth when the sun shines and the coldness when clouds pass overhead.

“An’Ahkrim…?” There is a question in her pause, almost as if she is apologetic about disturbing him. “…now’s a good time to plant some spring bulbs. You can probably find plenty under the oaks a half-mile south of your cabin.”

His reply is equally hesitant, and his voice is soft. “Oh. Okay. I- I’ve never done that. Planted things. In dirt. I’ll- Yes. Okay. I’ll try that.”

She thinks that’s the end of the message, but then a quiet whisper reaches her, using up the last of the spell. She’s not sure if it’s an observation he’s making for himself or sharing with her.

“There’s so much I don’t know.”

“You don’t… you haven’t… oh.” Her pause is just as drawn out, and it’s almost as if she has ended the casting. Until a more jovial… “Well, take your pick. See what comes up in spring. Whether it’s flowers, onions, wild garlic… they’re all fool-proof.”

His reply is wry, but she can hear the smile in his voice. “You say that now. Maybe I’ll grow Infernal potatoes by accident.”

And then, hesitantly, like he isn’t sure he’s allowed to ask, “...How are you, Velania?”

The surprise in her silence is palpable. “This year’s been… well, this spell won’t do it justice: every name is a whole story. Difficult. But getting better. Much better.” After a hesitation, there’s an audible smile. “Thank you.”

She can hear the smile in his voice as well, the relief at his question not being rebuked palpable. “I’m glad. You deserve good things.”

His tone turns somber again, but not dark. “I recognize my part in some of those stories. I want to make it up to you.”

There’s a small pause, and a dry chuckle creeps into his voice again. “Somehow. Someday.”

She chuckles, and the tone in her voice is one of kindness. “Keep going forward like you are – that will move mountains. More than you know…”

She trails off, as if she has tripped over her own words. But her last words are full of a regained conviction and encouragement: “And always try to be honest with me if you’re struggling.”

“I’ll struggle for a long time, Velania. Probably for the rest of whatever my life is now.” He speaks with a calm acceptance that lessens something in Velania’s chest. “But perhaps not always. Speak soon.”



Late in the month, it’s blustery and a damp chill whips through the yellowing trees.

Even though she speaks to him with calm authority, the worry is tangible in Velania’s voice. “It’s starting to get cold, An’Ahkrim. How is your winter prep looking? You’ll be needing warm clothing before long. And food will get scarce.”

By now, the complex mix of emotions in his voice whenever one of her Sendings takes him by surprise is familiar. She find she can read it easily – the startled reaction to another’s voice when living in isolation, the swallowed pride, the foreign notion of someone caring still being a baffling mystery.

“Velania,” he greets her calmly. “I’m set. Hunting always came easy and Je’Sathriel gave me supplies.” He laughs quietly, conspiratorially. “We had a domestic. I think he felt guilty. Now I have blankets.”

She imagines he is raising a mug of tea in quiet toast to his new winter gear.

Velania sits with his reassurances for a while. The memory of some bitter winters in her childhood lingers over her and she rubs her hands together instinctively. Her next message sounds almost chastened. “You’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t worry. My people always say: ‘the next winter is the coldest’. Hard leaving those old ways behind.”

“… wait. You fought?”

“Yes. But it’s fine. We both said… things. Not all of them untrue.”

There’s a sigh in the magic of the spell. She can feel it in her bones. But it’s not despondent, rather it’s resolved. “We’re connected. Fundamentally. And very different. And so similar in other ways.”

An’Ahkrim can sense when the next spell has been cast. In some indescribable way, a whisper of her presence is almost there, yet the spell transmits only a long, unbroken silence. Finally, when it seems as though the connection is going to fade, her voice comes through… “I’m sorry. What you two share is painfully complex, I know. That sounds like something which would be better discussed in person. If only I–”

His response is calm. Warm. “Velania,” he says, emphatically, reassuringly. Affectionately. “It’s alright. We both are. We’ll no doubt fight many more times but we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. Deal with yours. Be well.”



Velania pulls her cloak tight as she walks against the wind, through the Castleside Gate. Taking a regular path that skirts the city, she occasionally glances north to the distant edge of the Angelbark. It is well through the month of Uktar and the trees there have burst into colour.

“An’Ahkrim. The southern treeline of the Angelbark is stunning today. Vivid reds and golds. Are you seeing the same in your part of the forest?”

The reply is dry but warm. “Only the southern parts are deciduous. I have nothing but pine needles. They’re in everything. Keeps getting in my boots. In my bedding even.”

“You could probably do with a dustpan and brush,” she responds with a jovial tut. “What if I decided to make a surprise inspection?”

There’s a brief beat as she checks herself. “… I mean, only when you’re ready for guests…”

There’s a long silence before she gets a reply. “You are always welcome here. I would’ve invited you sooner but I haven’t, for reasons that I can’t hope to explain in under 25 words.”

Her disappointment is audible – and for An’Ahkrim, it is a new tone of expression that Velania has not conveyed in his presence before. “Sometimes I hate the limitations of this magic. And that you can’t reach out on your own terms. Sometimes it makes the distance seem greater.”

The silence stretches long again and when he finally speaks, there is a wealth of words that he doesn’t say.

The ones he does say, however, are emphatic and vulnerable. “I know. Be patient, if you can. Wait for me.”




Velania will wait no longer than Human Touch (23/03/2023).