Nerun and the Cliff Lights

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The wind crept in gusts over the sharp cliffs, salty and cold, as if it wanted to push everyone standing there into the depths. The sea beneath Nerun foamed white, lapping against the black rocks, making the air smell of storms. But she stood still, her gaze fixed straight ahead. For her, this wasn't a dangerous place—it was a promise. Her hands glided over the strangely glowing plants that grew along the path. The stalks were firm, almost crystalline, and sparks erupted from their tips, never extinguished even when the wind lashed them. Nerun felt the light pulsing against her fingers, warm, almost alive. "Do you see that?" she called, turning to her companion. The woman who had followed her was an experienced hiker, blonde, powerfully built, with gear that revealed she knew the wilderness better than any city. She squatted down, examining the plants as if she could feel their secrets. "It's old fire," the woman murmured. "Bound to the rocks so the sea doesn't swallow it all." Nerun narrowed her eyes. "Old fire? Who does it belong to?" "The cliffs. The sea. Perhaps even to those who are long gone." She spoke in a tone that promised not answers, but only riddles. But Nerun was young, curious, and not about to let riddles stand. She reached deeper into the plant until the sparks stuck to her skin. It didn't burn—it sang. Softly, barely audible, but clear enough that Nerun paused. It wasn't words, but a melody, a tone that traveled directly to her chest. "It's calling me," she whispered. Her companion raised her head, frowning. "A call can also be a trap." But Nerun didn't listen. She leaned forward, her horns silhouetted black against the horizon, and she felt her heartbeat in time with the lights. The sea roared—and yet there was something beneath it, a second roar, as if water flowing through gates no longer visible. "Perhaps it is a path," she said. The woman beside her laughed dryly. "A path to ruin, little horn child." But Nerun stepped back, her eyes shining. "And if not? If it is a path to memory? I... I think these lights are waiting. For someone like me." She didn't know why she said that. Only that it was true. The light had touched her, and with that touch came a feeling she couldn't explain—as if she were reclaiming something that had never been hers. The wanderer rose, scanning the sky. "If you walk this path, Nerun, then you must be willing to leave something behind. The lights take what they give." Nerun nodded. She was young, but she understood. Everything in this world demanded a price. Perhaps a memory, perhaps a fear, perhaps a dream. But the glow whispered to her that what she would receive in return would be greater. "Then I will try," she said firmly. She reached into the plant again.