conversations.from: system
conversations.value: >***
  >_This setting, [Cyfandir](https://sites.google.com/site/cyfandirsetting/home), was created by [Furare](https://storium.com/user/furare). Previous games in this sequence:_
  >* [Crossing Over](https://storium.com/game/crossing-over/act-1/scene-1)
  >* [Out of the Darkness](https://storium.com/game/out-of-the-darkness/act-1/scene-1)
  >***
  
  &nbsp;
  #Prelude
  
  Brynja straightened up, looked around her, and almost did a double take when her eyes fell on a quiet, brooding figure who had made no move to help. “Still alive, Bridgid?”
  
  The ranger tipped her chin, her face betraying nothing of her displeasure at being singled out from the crowd. “More than that poor sod, at least,” she replied, nodding to the body lying prone on the dirt floor of the Inn.
  &nbsp;
  
  ***
  
  &nbsp;
  Book after book and they were all useless - they called themselves a Library, a repository of knowledge, but they had nothing, nothing–
  
  “Warden’s Grace.”
  
  Bent over the final book in her stack, Bridgid couldn’t help but tremble a little. It wasn’t everything, not by a long shot, but it was something, and something was more than she’d had before.
  
  Then, suddenly, she heard a noise from a nearby stack, the sound of someone approaching with no clue that they’d interrupted her study. A moment’s hesitation and then she committed the ultimate crime, ripping the page from the book and shoving it into her pocket before turning and making a swift exit.
  
  “Bridgid?”
  
  No answer. Nayala trotted up to the carrol holding a stack of books and noted the open one.
  
  &nbsp;
  >_**Immortality**_
  >&nbsp;
  >_Many have sought this most blessed of elixirs, but those that pursue it through alchemy or other magicks have found nothing to extend the lifespan beyond perhaps a few decades. True immortality can only be achieved through_
  
  &nbsp;
  Dropping the two tomes she carried, Nayala took off at a fast jog in the direction she’d seen the ranger’s cape vanishing. A thousand thoughts ran through her head, most centered on a single theme: Bridgid had been on the first expedition to investigate the digsites; Bridgid was cold towards her fellows; Bridgid was unaffected by the horrific tales of the destruction; Bridgid had been looking up ways to become immortal; Bridgid was fleeing.
  
  Coming to a door that seemed to exit the library down a side hallway, Nayala slowed. It would pay to be cautious. It didn’t look good...but she didn’t know the whole story. Keeping a hand on her sword, the novice moved through the door and down the corridor.
  
  “Bridgid? Bridgid!”
  &nbsp;
  
  ***
  
  &nbsp;
  Together they tipped the cup, and as the liquid seeped round the final sigil Annika began to speak in a language Bridgid recognised but hadn’t heard in a very long time indeed, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar syllables. The spirits seemed to loom larger, somehow, as though drawing a deep breath as one, the storm-scented air oppressive, and as the last sigil faded a whispering began, low at first and then louder, like a sudden gale through a forest canopy, and then it was real - a real wind that rushed through the courtyard, hurtling around them like a tiny cyclone, pulling the ghosts into its fray and then dissipating into nothing.
  
  And that was it. They were gone.
  
  It was a long time before either woman moved, but then Bridgid seemed to come to and turned her attention to her still seeping cut. She heard the knife clatter onto the flagstones and felt Annika’s hands on her arm.
  
  “Here, let me...” The healer removed the spike with trembling fingers, immediately pressing a pad of cloth to the punctured vein. It was only as she lifted it to check it that she saw it - or rather, didn’t. There was no wound. It had already closed.
  
  Her eyes lifted to Bridgid’s, wide with confusion. “How...”
  
  And then dark curtains drew across her vision, and she saw nothing more.
  &nbsp;
  
  ***
  
  &nbsp;
  “So… is that it, then? You’re…” Annika sought the right word in vain. “Stuck?”
  
  “I thought so. For some time. But recently…” Bridgid leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs and giving a heavy sigh. “I found something. In the Library.”
  
  “The Library of Arcane Knowledge?” Annika straightened up a little. “Bridgid, there are dangerous texts in that place…”
  
  “Dying isn’t a safe art, last I checked.”
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do yourself: Lazy
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: So strong: Like bull
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Weak: Like little baby
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: The future: ???
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Witch: Or that’s what they call you, anyway. A master of herblore and healing, a purveyor of wisdom passed down from woman to woman over the ages, and a dab hand with a broom.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Practical: You’ve led a useful life, and picked up plenty of skills and a sensible streak to go with them.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Sheltered: For all your practical skills, there are some things you just don’t learn living in a cottage in the woods.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Direction: Where to from here?
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Ranger: A consummate hunter, more at home in the forest than in a town or city.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Experienced: Seasoned, well-travelled and ready for anything.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Isolated: You have been alone for a long time, and find human connections hard to maintain. 
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Find Peace: You seek that which will give you release. Is peace where you thought it would be, or somewhere else entirely?