Fleur

With Khal'dun's cryptic words echoing in my mind, I embarked on a journey to the Thur's territory, the vast expanse known as the Umbra Cliffs. Each step was a reminder of the weighty decisions I had made and the enigmatic path I had chosen to follow.

The Thur. They originated from the Umbra Cliffs, a land baptized by the flames of war, and thick with poisonous creatures and thieves. It is also a land with great poverty. The Thur's leader, Ludo Khan, is the oldest among the five tribal leaders.

The land unfolded before me, a canvas painted with the hues of nature's majesty. Towering cliffs reached up toward the heavens, their peaks adorned with snow, while deep valleys concealed secrets waiting to be unraveled. The air held a hint of mystique, as if the very atmosphere crackled with untamed energy.

As I ventured deeper into the heart of the Umbra Cliffs, I encountered villages nestled amidst the grandeur of the landscape. The locals were both cautious and welcoming, their eyes filled with curiosity as they wonder how a lone traveler got there. They shared tales of legendary figures who once roamed these lands, leaving behind a legacy woven with wonder and awe.

In the heart of Fleur, the bustling central village of the region, a commotion caught my eye. A flustered man was animatedly trying to explain something to a small group of locals. I felt an urge to listen in, so I harnessed the power of my Spirit Magic to eavesdrop discreetly from a distance.

"You have to believe me! I saw you enter the eastern cliffs with my own two eyes! Yet somehow here you all are as if nothing ever happened. Where have you been?" The man's voice was filled with urgency and concern as he implored his friends.

The group exchanged puzzled glances, their expressions clouded with confusion. One of them grumbled about a leaky roof from the day before, seemingly oblivious to the man's claims. Gradually, they turned away, leaving him bewildered and frustrated. He couldn't fathom their sudden forgetfulness.

'Amnesia. Could this be Zarathustra's doing?' I speculated to myself. The name of the legendary Spiritmancer, whispered in rumors and tales of arcane wonders, lingered in my thoughts.

Interrupting my musings, I approached the flustered man, hoping to offer some clarity to his mysterious ordeal. "Excuse me... could you tell me about these cliffs?" I inquired, mindful not to startle him.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he questioned me in return. "Were... were you eavesdropping on us?" he asked, a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"Yes. I apologize." I replied. "Can you tell me what happened here?"

"I suppose telling you can't hurt," he relented, his defenses slightly lowered. "Honest to the heavens, I watched those friends of mine walk into the eastern cliffs several days ago. That area is overrun with poisonous insects and vicious beasts - I honestly didn't think they'd come back alive! But you saw them just now too, right?" His voice trembled with disbelief. "They didn't have a single scratch on them. To top it off, all of them said they spent the past week at home!"

I nodded sympathetically, understanding the perplexing situation he found himself in. "Let me guess, they didn't believe you," I said, mirroring his concern.

"Now I feel like I'm the crazy one. Am I dreaming?" he wondered aloud, his anxiety palpable.

Drawing from my knowledge of Spirit Magic, I recognized that the manipulation of memories was a telltale sign of an active Spiritmancer in the vicinity. The realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. 'Maybe Khal'dun was telling the truth. Zarathustra really is here,' I mused.

Offering him some semblance of explanation, I spoke softly, "It might be the work of a Spiritmancer." His bewildered gaze met mine, seeking further clarification. "A Spiritmancer is said to possess the ability to control people's minds. It seems like your friends' memories have been tampered with."

"A Spiritmancer?" he echoed, absorbing the revelation. "I've heard they can control people's minds. That makes sense! I'll tell my friends to be more careful." Relief washed over him, evident in his demeanor as he departed, thankful that he hadn't descended into madness.

As he departed, I weighed the implications of Zarathustra's presence in the region, wondering if the elusive figure had indeed taken up residence near the eastern cliffs. With a resolute determination, I prepared to embark on my quest to seek out the Spiritmancer, knowing that the safety of Fleur's inhabitants hinged on unraveling this mysterious enigma. The sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting a warm glow upon the village, and my heart quickened with anticipation as I set out to confront the unseen force that now plagued this land.