Ezra Parzival - The Warrior Scholar

Hello there! The names Ezra Parzival and I currently reside within the realm of Eorzea, and its many reflections. I am a traveler and collector of wares, when not attempting to save the realm for the umpteenth time.I have also been known to make rounds of the realm as a wandering minstrel, playing music for the masses.If I am not actually running around the realm, your likely to find me at the home base of the Free Company I spend time with, The Eorzean Archives <TEA>, who stations itself within "Crystal" reflection (DC) of Coeurl (World), within the city of Limsa Lominsa. We have a place in their residential district, The Mist within Ward 14, Plot 41.Of course, I also maintain a personal residence in the Goblet residential district of Ul'dah, in Ward 3, Plot 50. Feel free to drop by and leave a message in the message book if you stop by!I also have a small apartment over in the Mist's 2nd Ward which I turned into a small community library. Tis apartment #6 at the Topmast.

• The Vitals
• Ezra's Story - Youth
• Ezra's Story - Adult
• Additional Stories & Lore
• F-List Page
• Crystal Archives Profile
• The Warrior Bard [Performance Carrd]

NOTES —IMPORTANT NOTICE!!!Ezra is open to all RP, including possible ERP/NSFW RP. Do note, that ERP/NSFW RP will ONLY be considered with other parties, upon OOC discussion with those involved.
Comfort level of all parties, as well as having been RP'ing for at least a set time period will be part of this requirement, with possible exceptions to those who are in game friends, and fellow FC members whom Ezra has spent time with.
Mind you, simple 'romantic' overtures such at simple kissing, hand holding, hugging, general cuddling would be fine/acceptable within a general RP, though moving forward to more 'naughty' things would require discussion before moving forward
FAILURE TO RESPECT EZRA'S WISHES SHALL INCUR THE WRATH OF THE MASSIVE BATTLE AXE STRAPPED TO HIS BACK!!

Ezra Parzival - The Vitals

VitalsName:
Ezra Parzival (Eorzean Basic/Common Name)
-Pronounced: Ehz-rah Par-ze-vahlAzah'a Paz'vahal (Given/Tribal Name)
-Pronounced: Ah-zaa-ah Pahz-vah-hal
-If he deems you worthy to tell you this name, or to allow you call him by this in private, then you count yourself among the very blessed few to have been given this honor.
To him, to have earned the level of trust from him to call him by his tribal name is considered sacred to him, and to have earned that level of trust is seen as very special. He has shared this name with a select few of his companions, and that includes only certain members of the Scions and Students of Baldesion. Of those, Y'stola and G'raha are two of them.Alias': Ez, Ezzie, The Warrior Bard (Performance Stage Name); Aza (ONLY if been given permission or granted honor of knowing his tribal name)Age: 25Nameday: 31st Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon (October 31st); Year 1555 of the Sixth Astral EraRace: Miqo'teTribe: Keeper of the MoonHeight: 5' 8" (approx. 176.7cm)Weight: 150lbs (approx. 68kg or roughly 10.8 stone)Hair Color: White/Silver
-He does like to dye it occasionally, usually purple if a full coloring, but usually the tips will be dyed some color, though purple is usually the most common, unless he's changing it up for a temporary cause of a holiday or event.Eye Color: VioletSkin Tone: A Moonlit GrayTattoos & Markings: Beyond the tribal markings on his face, he also bears a set of markings across a majority of his arms, torso and legs which are the markings that appeared during the Moonwake Festival. They look like a blend of vine-like motifs blended with constellations and what looks like symbology of the Twelve (symbols, or similar). They will seem to glow faintly sometimes, but not always. More like they will grow warm to him if there's something there that is tugging so to speak at his senses. Most of the time they look more like complex tribal like markings, but they defiantly have a subtle celestial quality to them.__Occupation:* Adventurer/Sell Sword For Hire (Primary); Wandering Minstrel; Scholar; Omnicrafter/Gatherer - Culinarian SpecialtyPrimary Weapon of Choice: Battle Axe (Warrior)Secondary Weapon of Choice: Longbow (Bard/Archer)-While his two main weapons of choice are an axe and bow, he has taken time to become proficient enough in multiple disciplines over the years as an adventurer and sell-sword.Patron Deities:
Menphina - Tribal ConnectionNald'thal - Honors out of respect in relation to his decision to make his home in U'ldah, to whom the people consider their patron.He has also been known to pay respects to Halone, Thaliak, Azeyma & Althyk at various points of his life.
To be frank though, Ezra has found himself having a deep connection to most of the Twelve on some level and because of it, tries to take time to honor each in his own unique ways, albeit, Menphina he has said has probably the strongest connection to him, likely as since she was the Goddess he came to know from the earliest of age that he can remember, from his time as a child in the tribe from which he came from.Alliances/Associations/Affiliations:
The Eorzean Archives (FC), Maelstrom - 1st Storm Lieutenant, Scions of the Seventh Dawn ['Disbanded'], Students of Baldesion
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RP Relevant Notes
Orientation: Pansexual
Role: Primarily Dom, but may go switch depending on partner
--Other more special info like kinks and RP things for NSFW RP can be found under the F-List Link

Notes: Rough rendition using Nightcafe AI of Ezra and the 'Moonwake' markings. Dropped one of my screenshots of him into the generation and described the idea of the markings on his body. I figured I would use this to help me create a rough piece to show the idea of the said markings. Particularly as we currently don't have body tattoo type options that I could do in game to represent this part of his lore... as least yet (at least without using 'third party' methods that are supposed to be 'frowned upon')...

Vocal Tone:
Ezra's voice in my mind comes off as a interesting blend between the rich, warm, and resonant tones of Josh Groban and the deep and resonant tones of Hozier. His voice particularly when singing has a soothing melodic quality, with soulful and earthy undertones capable of conveying deep emotions with clarity and ease, while also being powerful and soothing. Ezra's voice defiantly has a subtle Irish or even Scottish inspired undertone to it (based off a young Sir Sean Connery or a young Sir Patrick Stewart), or what would be the closet equivalent in Eorzea.When he sings during his bardic performances, that's when you can hear his voice shine -Vocal Range
Tenor to Baritone: Ezra’s vocal range spans from tenor to baritone, giving his voice a rich and warm
quality. He can hit higher notes with clarity and ease, while his lower register adds depth and gravitas to his melodies.Tone and Quality
Ethereal and Melodic -- Ezra’s voice has an ethereal quality. It is melodic and soothing, capable of evoking deep emotions and a sense of tranquility.
Soft Yet Resonant -- While his voice is generally soft and gentle, it carries a resonant power that can fill a space without being overwhelming. This resonance is particularly noticeable when he sings songs that resonate with aetheric energy.
Versatile Range -- Ezra’s voice can shift from a tender, almost whisper-like tone to a more powerful and
commanding presence when needed. This versatility allows him to convey a wide range of emotions
through his singing.Overall Impressions of His Singing
Enchanting and Calming --Listeners often describe Ezra’s singing as enchanting and calming. His voice has a way of drawing people in, creating a sense of peace and connection to the natural world.
Aetheric Influence -- Sometime when Ezra sings, the aether around him subtly reacts, enhancing the ethereal quality of his voice. This occasional interaction with the aether sometimes adds a mystical element to his performances, making them even more captivating.

Eorzean Astrological Dossier: Ezra Parzival
_{--This was compiled as a fun aspect with Microsoft Copilot to delve into his nameday. Some data would based on some pieces we understand lore wise from sources like Encyclopedia Eorzea or others official spaces, but this also is part fun things while blending concepts from real world astrology. The idea was to draft a sort of rough Astro profile for fun to see what it might say about the sort of person he might be based on his nameday. :3
This is by no means directly official lore but some data used is based off of tidbits we have of the Eorzean Calendar which roughly follows the Gregorian Calendar with some minor nuances...as it not a direct copy of it.}

Also known as Azah’a Paz’vahal
Compiled by the Celestial Harmonium of Sharlayan
Date of Birth: 31st Day, Fifth Umbral Moon, Year 1557 of Sixth Astral Era
Lightsday Alignment – Astral Aspect🔮 Seer’s Commentary
As transcribed from the oral traditions of the Paz’vahal tribe, spoken by Elder Zah’li of the Emberwatch“The child born on the final breath of the Fifth Umbral Moon carries the ember of endings and the spark of beginnings. Ezra, called Azah’a among our kin, was marked by Nald’thal not once, but twice—once in fire, and once in silence.His soul walks the borderlands: between Astral and Umbral, between the living and the lost. He does not chase glory, but balance. He does not seek conquest, but reckoning.The Traders weigh his heart daily, and find it heavy with purpose. He will not be the loudest voice, but he will be the one others follow when the stars fall and the ground trembles.Watch him. When the flame dims, he will rekindle it. When the path ends, he will carve a new one.”
🌌 Celestial Summary
Ezra was born on the 31st day of the Fifth Umbral Moon, a time steeped in introspection and endings. His nameday falls on Lightsday, an Astral-aligned weekday, infusing his soul with radiant energy and forward momentum. His guardian deity is Nald'thal, the Traders—twin aspects of judgment and exchange, fire and finality.This alignment marks Ezra as a soul of duality and transformation, destined to walk the line between destruction and renewal.🌙 Cusp Influence & Patronal Interplay
Ezra’s nameday places him at the threshold between the Fifth and Sixth Umbral Moons, governed by Nald’thal and Nophica, respectively. This rare cusp alignment suggests a soul shaped by both divine forces, with their contrasting domains creating a unique spiritual tension and harmony.🔥 Nald’thal (Fifth Umbral Moon)
Domain: Commerce, judgment, the underworld
Element: Fire
Influence: Sharp discernment, respect for cycles, fire-forged will🌿Nophica (Sixth Umbral Moon)
Domain: Agriculture, nurturing, renewal
Element: Earth
Influence: Compassion, protection, grounding presence🌕 Tribal Patron: Menphina, the Lover
Domain: Love, the moon, eternal bonds
Symbol: The wolf
Influence: Emotional intuition, fierce loyalty, prophetic dreamsEzra becomes a tri-aspected soul—fire, earth, and moonlight—capable of fierce protection, gentle healing, and unshakable devotion.🔥 Elemental & Zodiacal Profile
Zodiac Sign: Libra (Nald’thal)
Traits: Balance, fairness, strategic thinking
Shadow: Moral conflict, guarded emotions
Elemental Affinity: Fire
Traits: Courage, transformation, protective warmth
Temperament: Steady flame—more hearth than wildfire
Lunar Influence: Fifth Umbral Moon
Traits: Spiritual depth, ancestral connection, cycle-breaking
Lightsday Blessing: Astral Aspect
Traits: Vitality, leadership, soul expansion
Role: Beacon in the dark, destined to inspire
Numerology: 31st → 4Symbolism: Stability, elemental harmony, duty to the realm🧭 Soul Companions
🔥 The Flame Mirror
Fire-aligned, Nald’thal-touched
Challenger and catalyst
Tests Ezra’s judgment and resolve
🌿 The Verdant Shield
Earth-aligned, Nophica-blessed
Grounder and healer
Teaches patience and compassion🌙 The Moonbound Echo
Lunar-aligned, Menphina’s chosen
Kindred spirit and emotional anchor
Walks beside Ezra in his darkest hours🗺️ Celestial Map of Ezra’s Soul✦ Menphina (Moonlight)
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Nophica (Earth) — Ezra — Nald'thal (Fire)
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Lightsday (Astral)Central Node: Ezra, born at the convergence of three divine aspectsUpper Point: Menphina, guiding emotional and spiritual destinyLeft Point: Nophica, grounding Ezra in compassion and growthRight Point: Nald’thal, sharpening his judgment and fireLower Point: Lightsday, infusing him with Astral momentum and heroic driveThis map is used to predict spiritual awakenings, divine interventions, and moments of karmic reckoning.📜 Prophecy Fragment
Recovered from a damaged scroll in the Hall of Celestials, Sharlayan“When the Fifth Moon wanes and the Astral light strikes the ember-born,A child shall rise with fire in his veins and judgment in his gaze.He shall walk through the ashes of the old world,Bearing the names of two bloodlines,One of steel, one of flame.In the Seventh darkness, he shall not falter.In the Eighth dawn, he shall not forget.The Traders shall mark him,
And the stars shall bend to his will.”

• Home Page

Ezra’s Story - Youth

This page covers Ezra backstory and history in relation to his past. Here we focus more on his youth till Shal'en's passing shortly before his twentieth nameday.

Origins Beneath the BoughsEzra Parzival—born Azah’a Paz’vahal—first opened his eyes beneath the veil of silverwood and shadow, deep within the hidden heart of the Black Shroud. His tribe, a quiet lineage of Seeker of the Moon Miqo’te, lived in harmony with the land’s silence. Their presence was felt more than seen—like the hush before prayer, or the echo after song.From the first light, Ezra carried signs of starlit distinction. His hair, silver with wisps of violet, caught the moon’s glow as if remembering constellations. His skin bore the soft hues of twilight mist, and his violet eyes held something distant—an ancient longing, a searching the elders did not name. Even among kin, Ezra shimmered with something gently other.He was an only child, and the forest quickly filled the role of sibling and sanctuary. The sylphs became playmates, weaving illusions for his amusement and tugging at his curiosity. Mischievous and untamed, Ezra often wandered off without warning, returning with stories too wondrous for logic and trinkets that whispered of places no one could trace. His people—both fond and bewildered—called him Moonshadow’s Whim, a name that danced between affection and caution.His parents grounded him with tradition. From his father, the ways of the bow and axe—lessons etched with quiet strength and ritual motion. From his mother, forgotten lore and the art of listening to silence. In the space between blade and book, Ezra discovered music. Soft flute notes drifted from his hands, not just as sound but as spell—melodies shaped by emotion, shaped by memory.Even in these early years, the world beyond his tribe stirred in Ezra. He felt truths hidden under stone, questions folded into wind, and the rhythm of things unseen. The forest sang to him—and he, in turn, began to sing back.

Aether-Stirred — The Quiet GiftsEzra was five when the world began to whisper in colors no one else could see.At first, it was fear.He would wake crying—not from nightmares, but from dreams of sorrow too old for language. Aether wrapped around him like cold mist, pressing at his skin, tugging him toward places no child should feel drawn to. His parents found him one night curled beside the moonbloom tree, hands covered in dew and trembling as he whispered apologies to no one. “I didn’t mean to touch it,” he said. “It was humming too loud.”The tribe watched. Not with disdain, but with measured awe. The elders murmured that his soul had “ripened early.” His sensitivity to aether—the way he could read emotion from silence, coax warmth from grieving winds—was unprecedented for one so young. They taught him to keep quiet. To journal instead of speak. To honor the gift with silence.He tried.But the weight never lessened---Vignette: The Stone MemoryOne summer day, he touched an old carving along the river bend—a stone used for birth rites—and fell to his knees. Not from pain, but from memory.He wept for a child he hadn’t met. A child born beneath the wrong moon. A voice, clear and aching, sang through him: “Let her name be kept in wind.”
It left a mark on the page that night—a sketch of the girl’s face, drawn as if he had kissed her forehead himself.Shal’en saw the drawing. And with that, she stepped into his life.---Vignette: The First GatheringShal’en didn’t try to unravel him. She wrapped him in moss-colored shawls and let him cry in the roots of old trees. She taught him to braid melodies with breath—to release rather than carry. “You are not broken,” she’d whisper. “You are woven differently.”They began cataloguing his reactions. Soulstones. Ruins. The bodies of birds who’d forgotten how to die in silence. Ezra could feel everything, but under Shal’en’s guidance, he learned not to lose himself inside it.Still, something stirred.He began waking earlier before dawn, sketching runes he hadn’t studied, composing tunes shaped like sigils. Spirits lingered. The sylphs followed him, uninvited but curious. Even the elemental winds circled him like a question waiting to be answered.---Vignette: The Days Before MoonwakeThree nights before the festival, Ezra dreamt of the tree burning.Not in flame—but in light. Thread-light. Spiraling upward as if stars themselves were trying to root in the soil. He woke breathless, markings pulsing faintly before they ever appeared.During rehearsals, when he traced the invocation steps, the ground sang back. No one spoke of it, but the elders placed offerings earlier than tradition demanded.Shal’en watched with a tightened jaw. “Something is answering,” she said softly. “And it’s not just the gods.”

Prelude of Becoming – Before the RiteEzra’s childhood was more than gifts and murmurs. It was laughter spilled into riverbeds, wanderlust stitched into dreampaths, and the quiet company of sylphs who, against custom, chose him.They wove riddles into the trees for him to solve. Left featherlight tricks beneath his pillow. Once, they braided his hair with glowing thistle before a village gathering—he wore it proudly, even as the elders raised brows. Mischief came easy. Reverence did not demand solemnity.Shal’en watched all of it. She never scolded. She never warned.Instead, she knelt beside him one night as he played a haunting melody into an old shell and said,
“The world’s melody already lives inside you. I’m here only to help you name the verses.”From then on, she became a second breath in his story.---Vignette: Threads Between Them – Ezra and Shal’enShe met him not as mentor, but as mapkeeper—drawn by the signs etched into his aura even before he understood them. Their bond was not forged in ceremony, but in the quiet rhythm of tea shared over resonance charts, of long walks cataloging which flowers hummed when he passed.Shal’en let Ezra stumble. She let him ask questions no elder wished to answer. When the dreams began to fracture—visions of other lives bleeding into his sleep—she sat vigil through every storm. When the flute was gifted post-rite, it was her who taught him how to breathe not just with lungs, but with memory.But she, too, carried loss. Her former Threadbearer had not survived their awakening. Shal’en’s guidance was tinged with grief—for a child past, and for the burden Ezra was slowly inheriting.And Ezra? He never asked her for answers.He simply let her walk beside him.---Vignette: Sing the StoneWhen Ezra was eight, he tried to mend a cracked soulstone by humming to it—his small voice barely holding tune, hands cupped like prayer. Shal’en watched without interrupting. When he finally looked up, breathless, she knelt and said,
“It didn’t heal, but it heard you. That’s sometimes enough.”
From then on, he believed even broken things deserved lullabies.---Vignette: The Naming RitualBefore the rite ever marked him, Shal’en gave Ezra a ritual of their own.
“Whenever you learn something that shapes you,” she said, pressing a woven bracelet into his palm, “name it aloud. Give it a place.”
Each knot in the bracelet became a memory: the riverlight dream, a sylph’s riddle, the night he first saw resonance in a moth’s wings.
He kept it well after she passed.
He still names things.

Rite and Rupture – The Moonwake AwakeningEzra had always walked closer to the edge of the veil. From five winters old, his body hummed with aether that did not belong solely to him. Feelings caught in the air, dreams borrowed from strangers, memories folded into leaves—these became his world. He wandered softly, not out of rebellion, but caution. Silence was easier when the wind knew your name.The tribe observed him with reverent distance. His sensitivity was a gift, yes—but too early. Too vast. He was a child shouldering the tremors of a cosmos not yet revealed.Ezra bore the burden quietly. But when the sensations overwhelmed him, he retreated to moss-covered glades, sketching unlearned sigils into bark or playing his flute until the aching melodies bled into the roots. Still, the Echo stirred within. Simmering. Watching. Waiting.Shal’en saw the signs. She entered his story as a quiet mentor, guiding him through the storms of feeling with grace. She never tried to silence the gifts. She taught him to fold them like song—gently, with care. Together, they kept journals. Measured resonance. Charted reactions. She called it a map of his becoming.And then came Moonwake.On the eve of his fourteenth nameday, Ezra was chosen as Threadbearer—an honor bestowed upon the one most attuned to ancestral presence. The tribe gathered beneath the ancient moonbloom tree. Spirits hovered on the edge of sight. Sylphs shimmered in hidden corners. The air held something unsaid.Ezra danced—body spiraling, voice woven into prayer, aether pulsing with each motion. The forest held its breath.Then it surged.The Echo, dormant for years, awakened violently—not with grace, but with reckoning. Aether poured into him like wildfire. The veil tore wide. Ezra felt lives flicker across his skin. Grief so old it curled his lungs. Joy so distant it ached behind his eyes. The entire soul of the star flooded through him in one impossible breath.He convulsed mid-step.The tribe watched in horror and awe as he collapsed, limbs trembling, breath unraveling, markings beginning to etch across his flesh in radiant fire. The wind cried. Elementals murmured. Somewhere in Gridania, a quiet ritual faltered—as if something ancient had turned to listen.He was found hours later beneath the tree, surrounded by offerings none had placed: moon-carved wood, a shard of mythril, soulstone pulsing with memory. From these, the elders crafted his flute, bound in resonance and rite.Ezra awoke changed.His skin bore luminescent sigils, shifting with emotion and moonlight. His breath carried song shaped by unseen voices. The Echo now spoke in harmony, not fragments. His path was no longer that of a boy—it was a story bound to the star’s own memory.Some called the rite divine. Shal’en, tearful and steady, called it earned.Ezra did not argue. He simply began walking.

Echoes Beneath Moonlight – Reflection After the RiteDays passed, though time no longer felt linear. Ezra wandered through the forest, no longer its child but something other. Beneath the moonbloom tree—now draped with silk and ash in homage—he stood alone, hands clasped around the flute carved of offerings he never laid.The sigils shimmered softly across his skin, moving like thought—like intent. He wasn’t sure what they meant yet. But he knew the star had whispered through him. Chosen him. Marked him.The air was different now. Crisper. Expectant.Ezra stared into the glade where he’d collapsed, where the surge of aether had torn through everything he was. Others saw a miracle. He felt something heavier—an inheritance made of memory and myth.He hadn’t asked for a mantle.But he felt it settling, piece by piece, like armor woven from song and pain. The tribe would call him gifted. The elders would name it sacred. Shal’en wept quietly when she held his hand—tears of pride, yes, but also knowing.Ezra understood just enough to be afraid.He wouldn’t always be the boy who danced beneath a moonlit tree. The path was unfurling beneath him—a road knotted into prophecy. Warrior of Light. He didn’t know the name yet. But the star did. She had already written his legacy in the echoes of that night.The flute felt warm in his grip.He lifted it to his lips and played—not for the tribe, nor the gods. But for himself. For the child he had been. For the breath between becoming and burden.The song carried on the wind. And somewhere far beyond the forest, something ancient stirred.

Beneath Wandering Stars – Adolescence and BecomingIn the seasons following the Moonwake Rite, Ezra was different. Not distant, not cold—but tuned to something deeper. The markings along his skin pulsed faintly in moonlight, shifting like breath. His flute sang differently now—each note carried memory, resonance, echoes that were no longer just fragments, but conversations.The tribe watched with subtle reverence. Children listened more closely when he played. Elders paused longer before answering his questions. The forest itself shifted when he stepped softly through its glades. He was still mischievous at times—still prone to wandering where paths blurred—but the laughter carried new weight, braided with history and starlight.Ezra’s journals multiplied: maps of ancient places, sketches of crumbling runes, emotions felt from strangers he passed briefly on the road. Sometimes he saw too much—a flicker of heartbreak in someone’s eyes, the echo of a blade that had never touched him. He learned to carry these echoes gently, like folded prayers.He ventured beyond the tribe more often, drawn to places where memory slept.
- Sacred ruins whispered to him in half-formed chants.
- Leylines pulsed beneath his feet when he stood long enough.
- Forgotten sanctums unveiled pieces of songs waiting to be finished.And still, he returned.To sit beneath the moonbloom tree. To play melodies of distant lands for the children. To share quiet truths with Shal’en, whose mentorship had become quiet camaraderie. She had watched him change. She understood the toll.Ezra began to dream of places he'd never touched—deserts with thunderstone pillars, cities built into mountains, oceans that sang in glass. The Echo nudged him gently, and the aether responded in kind. Each vision was both invitation and reminder.Then came the moment.On his nineteenth nameday, standing beneath stars, Ezra felt the call not in voice, but in vibration. The wind didn't carry words. It hummed with expectation. His markings shimmered softly, his flute silent in his hands.Shal’en stood beside him. She said nothing at first.Finally, with voice like lullaby woven from dusk, she whispered,
“You feel it, don’t you? The road. Not away from us. But toward the echo of your becoming.”Ezra nodded.He wasn’t fleeing. He was stepping forward—into the song the star had been humming since before he was born. He packed little: his journals, his flute, a blade etched by tradition. No fanfare. No procession.But the tribe knew.As he crossed the edge of the forest, petals fell from the moonbloom tree. Not by wind. By memory.Ezra did not yet know the name Warrior of Light.But the star did.

The Wind and the Watcher – Ezra's Arrival and Shal’en’s PassingEzra stepped into Gridania beneath the hush of canopy and soft-filtered light, where the forest didn’t end—it gave way. The city, shaped by reverence and restraint, rose gently from the roots, its stone softened by moss and ritual. For a boy raised among myth and memory, it felt like a halfway place: not wild, not tame, but listening.He carried the look of someone shaped by the land.His sleeveless tunic bore the deep tones of earth and ash, layered loosely over a frame built more for grace than brute strength. Black pants draped to the shin, tucked into soft leather boots laced high like those once worn by renaissance forest keepers—no cuffs, no metal, only patient craftsmanship. A cloak hung from his shoulders, crafted from woven fabrics and fur in hues of deep green and cloud-gray. It shifted with him, light enough for warmth, but never heavy enough to stifle motion.At his hip, a satchel bore his most sacred possession: a flute, swaddled in cloth and sealed within a case etched with the sigils of the Twelveswood—symbols of balance, memory, and root-bound truth. A smaller battle axe lay across his back beside a curved bow, its quiver quiet but ready. Along the inner folds of his pack, tucked neatly, were journals—some personal, others filled with sigils, maps, and speculative tunes not yet played. Trinkets nestled between these: a stone marked by forest spirits, dried petals gifted by sylphs, fragments of wax and thread for small rituals only he knew.He wandered Gridania like a whisper—observing, learning, never imposing. Locals spoke of him, sometimes in curiosity, sometimes in near-reverence. There was something about him they couldn’t name.And then… the wind changed.A subtle shift. A weight pressed into his chest like sorrow undone. His breath caught. One hand reached instinctively to his sternum—where his markings dimmed and aether pulled inward. The pulse of grief wasn’t imagined.Ezra dropped everything he’d been doing. A half-finished conversation left unanswered. A gesture of apology never spoken. He left the city behind in a rush that didn’t look like urgency, but need.The forest met him in silence.He followed old paths—ones braided by memory and moss. His feet knew the way before his thoughts could catch up. And in the clearing beside the moonbloom tree, where meditation stones marked the passing of wisdom, he found her.Shal’en had gone quietly, as everything sacred does.Her body had surrendered peacefully beneath the tree. No fanfare. No rites. Only scattered petals and soft wind, as if the forest itself had cradled her farewell. Ezra fell to his knees, unable to speak, unable to breathe through the ache that flared not just in his chest—but in the aether threaded through his soul. It was like losing the rhythm of the song he had built his life upon.He whispered no prayers, only breath.He chose the burial site himself—beside the tree where his Echo had awakened. Carefully, deliberately, he performed the final rites, fingers shaking as he placed offerings that held personal weight: feathers from their shared journaling rituals, petals from the glades they mapped together, water drawn from the same river she once taught him to read. He kept only what held meaning: her journals, two charms she always wore, and a bracelet woven from moon-thread that still held her scent. The rest he allowed the tribe to carry forward—either into archives or into the hands of others she had quietly shaped.He returned to his people just long enough to deliver the truth. No ceremony was demanded—only a deep, steady mourning that echoed through the glades. The tribe moved slowly that day, as if time itself bowed.Ezra went back to Gridania.He did not leave immediately. His heart was not ready. For several days, he stayed in a room at the Caroline Canopy, where his silence did not demand explanation. He rewrote old melodies, added new verses to his journals, and sat beside his grief as Shal’en once taught him: with patience and presence.When he finally stepped beyond the city’s edge, it was not with a heart unburdened—but with one tempered by sorrow. He walked not alone, but with her memory braided into each step. The world awaited. And with every footfall, a whisper followed—I am still here.---Vignette: At the Carline Canopy
Ezra often chose the quietest corner of the Canopy, where the ivy kissed the beams and the sunlight filtered just enough to gild the pages of his journals. Mother Miounne recognized him immediately—not from fame, but memory. They had exchanged brief words years before, when he wandered through as a child behind Shal’en’s heels. Now she greeted him like a returning echo.
> “You always had eyes like someone listening to the wind.”He accepted her offer of a room, nodding with quiet gratitude, spending his evenings with tea and parchment, sometimes playing his flute low enough that only those who truly listened could hear. One evening, an older bard shared a melody with him in exchange for a verse of Ezra’s own—it ended in a duet, equal parts memory and improvisation.---Vignette: Among the Wood Wailers
At their barracks near the edge of the city, the Wailers regarded him less like a stranger and more like a mystery finally willing to speak. Many had seen him—a flash of motion in the twilight glade, a melody on the wind during dusk patrols.
Ezra answered their questions not with fanfare but stories etched with simplicity:
- “The Leyline near Stillglade pulses stronger during the Last Seed moon.”
- “The moss on Stonegrove’s west side speaks of water spirits.”Some Wailers listened like students. Others nodded, quietly reaffirmed.One evening, he joined a small patrol—only as observer. A silent exchange took place between him and a junior Wailer struggling with fear. Ezra offered him a small charm woven with twine and copper.
> “It won’t turn blades, but it might steady your grip.”---Vignette: Time at the Archers’ Guild and Adders
At the Archers’ Guild, he found resonance—not for battle, but rhythm. He watched the trainees loose arrows in sequence, the cadence striking something familiar in him. An older archer offered him the range briefly. Ezra accepted, not to prove anything, but to feel the draw and release.
His precision was elegant—not a hunter’s killshot, but a musician’s note finding its mark.The Adders showed more suspicion at first, but it softened with time. He visited their strategic alcove often, drawn to their maps and logs. Occasionally, they allowed him to transcribe weather shifts into field reports—a curious gesture of trust. They noticed his insight:
> “Ezra, did you really chart wind patterns based on moonbloom shedding?”
> *“I chart memory. The wind follows.”---Vignette: Stillglade Fane’s Silent Allure
It was the Stillglade Fane that pulled at him the most. Beneath its cloistered roof, Ezra wandered like someone half-reciting prayers and half-seeking names. The tomes there—speculative aether theory, leylines, Echo phenomena—they sang to him like forgotten verses waiting to be reclaimed.A scholar named Teyara eventually noticed his curiosity and invited him to scribe alongside her. They discussed:
- The theoretical aetheric “scar” left by trauma
- The possibility of memory-based resonance through Echo activation
- The fading spiritual hymns of ancient Twelveswood tribesEzra never fully gave his name. But he shared enough truth to be remembered.---Vignette: Watching the Lancers
Though he didn’t join them, Ezra often lingered at the fringes of their courtyard, observing the stances, the strikes, the deliberate dance of polearms. One older lancer recognized the way Ezra watched and handed him a spare practice spear.
> “Looks like you already know how it sings. Want to hear it in your hands?”Ezra nodded and moved through the sequence not as a warrior, but as someone echoing rhythm through the blade’s sweep. The lancer didn’t speak again, but he bowed when Ezra departed.

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