Ankyra Sound invisible ghosts

He never grew tired of hearing the ocean.

There was something comforting in the ever constant roll of tide water against sand and stone. Comforting didn't even seem like the right word for it really, though perhaps now that he had embarked on a long trek on his own it seemed fitting. It quelled the notion that he would ever be homesick, and it provided him with an easily followed path should he ever decide that southern climes were not for him.

Yet these were not the things that guided him now, nor did the unsettled ground deter him as of late. Earthquakes were nothing new to him; if anything, it had been the absence of them as he ventured southward that had been strange at first. But this too he had grown accustomed to and like the sound of the shore and all it held, the earthly shimmer and shake almost suggested to him that he had gone full circle.

There was naught familiar here along this stretch of sand however—only the smell of kin rushing towards him as he walked into the coastal breeze, the feeling of grit between his toes. The forests were different yet comprised of the same substance and he attributed even that naturally to the borderlands as he reached them and their wavering trail.

Valtari did not dawdle there long, his intentions were direct: he called for others, his reasoning clear.