Higher Plain Ch 33: Returning To Ones True Size!

(Faylina) The lands of Valtheron stretched out beneath me, painted in soft green and pale brown—like someone had spilled a watercolor map ov

(Faylina)

The lands of Valtheron stretched out beneath me, painted in soft green and pale brown—like someone had spilled a watercolor map over the earth. I stepped slowly, carefully. Every footfall still shook the land, no matter how gently I tried to move.

I was already large—too large for this brittle, beautiful world. Standing tall enough that clouds skimmed my shoulders, my boots alone could flatten barns. But I refused to grow further. Not yet. Not until I reached the edge of Valtheron, the border of where people lived and built their hopes. I didn't want to cause more damage than I already had.

The wind tugged at my hair as I walked, carrying the scent of pine and the faraway salty breeze of the ocean. It also carried something else—memories. Of quiet meals. Of a small, calloused hand reaching out for mine. Of a voice that had told me I still had a place here.

Krelzor.

Even now I could still hear his voice in my mind. He had been so kind, so understanding. Even when he didn't have to be. Even when I didn't deserve it.

I didn't know if I'd ever see him again.

As I reached the border, a low hill sloped down into a quiet valley. Beyond that, the blue shimmer of the ocean waited—my path forward. Somewhere across that horizon... she was coming. I could feel it. Not a Morvren. Not corruption.

Another Xylarion.

And I knew exactly which one.

I let out a slow breath and looked down at my hands. Still shaking slightly, even after all I'd done to control myself. I could feel it building again—that coiled pressure inside my body, locked behind will and worry and hesitation. A tide waiting to be released.

"All right," I whispered to myself, closing my eyes. "It's time."

I took in a slow breath and did the one thing I hadn't done since I arrived in the lower world.

I let go.

The change was immediate.

My legs trembled as my body began to swell—bone, skin, and soul expanding together. My muscles stretched taut, only to thicken, stabilize, and grow again. The seams of my clothes strained, then gave way in quiet tears. My boots groaned as they pushed deeper into the earth, carving canyons with every widening step. The ground cracked, shuddered, and gave way beneath me, reshaping itself around my feet.

The clouds no longer hovered at my shoulders. Now they floated harmlessly around my waist.

The air itself grew heavy, thick with pressure from my rising form. A breeze rippled across the land from just one exhale. Forests bent. The sky darkened with the shadow I cast, and when I opened my eyes again, the world had changed.

Everything was smaller.

The hills were like ripples in fabric. Rivers like scratches on stone. Villages—what few remained nearby—were specks, indistinguishable from dust. The sea looked like a silvered stain across the horizon.

I no longer stood in Valtheron.

I towered over it.

It was... strange. And heartbreaking.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, though no one could hear me now. My voice rolled across the world like thunder.

Turning slowly, I faced the sea.

A faint pulse shimmered in the back of my skull. A presence. Larger than the land could hold. One of ours. She's here.

And she was walking. Not toward me.

Toward Valtheron.

Toward the world I had come to care about.

I planted my foot forward, the earth buckling beneath my step, the oceans already starting to shift under my weight. I walked carefully—but no matter how careful I was now, the world could barely take my steps.

Still, I walked.

"Krelzor," I whispered, eyes locked on the horizon, "you better still be safe."

Then, louder, I called to the wind, to the sea, to the presence I could feel on the edge of all things.

"I'm coming."

***

(Krelzor)

The whole damn porch creaked under my boots, though it wasn't me doing the shaking.

No, that was her.

I leaned on the old railing, arms folded, eyes squinting against the sunrise. Off in the far distance—miles and miles away—I could still see her. It was impossible not to. Faylina had grown so massive, so colossally immense, that her outline rose over the trees like a living mountain swallowed by the sky. And even though she was far off, her steps still made the boards rattle beneath me like a storm rolling in beneath the ground.

Dust jumped in the air with every distant boom, each one followed by a few heartbeats of silence. Then the next came. Like the ticking of a very large, very angry clock.

I swallowed. Hard.

I could barely recognize her from here. Honestly, it felt like looking at a mirage, or some kind of living illusion conjured by a bored god. And yet I knew it was her. The faint shimmer of her silver armor, the long trail of hair like spun moonlight... her silhouette, shifting with every thunderous step, burned itself into my memory.

My stomach twisted when I thought about how I once climbed her. Climbed her. All the way up to her shoulder. I don't know what I was thinking. She could've sneezed and launched me into orbit. What in the name of the gods was wrong with me?

I mean... I'd probably do it again if it meant seeing her smile. But still—never again, right? ...Probably.

Then her voice hit.

Like thunder. Rolling through the hills, bending the trees, shaking the shingles of the roof above me. I instinctively ducked a little, wincing even though I knew it wouldn't help. Her words traveled like a storm. And in the middle of them—my name. Barely audible. Just a whisper woven into the clouds. But it was there.

I blinked, stunned. She was thinking about me.

She was miles away and yet her presence dominated the land, owned the sky. The wind, the dirt, the birds in the trees—all of it bowed to her steps now. And still... she was thinking about me?

Gods help me.

A part of me wanted to feel proud. Lucky. Important. But another part—the part that had seen firsthand what just one of her footsteps could do to a field—felt something else.

Dread.

Not because of her. Not exactly. But because of what she was. What her kind were. Legends told of how one Xylarion had brought down an entire army just by standing still. How their ancestors could swallow cities with their hands, how a single tear could flood a valley. Back then I thought it was all exaggeration, the kind of thing old storytellers used to scare kids into staying in bed.

But now... watching her silhouette tower over forests and hills, her voice stretching over the horizon...

I wasn't so sure anymore.

Maybe the old stories weren't just stories.

Maybe they were warnings.

I glanced down at my hands. Calloused, stained from soil and ash. I was a farmer. A small man with small tools. And somewhere out there were beings who could end the world by tripping over it.

And still, somehow, one of them had stayed with me. Sat at my table. Ate my cake. Held my hand.

I turned to look at the house—our house, I guess—and paused.

There it was again.

A whisper. Or something like it. My name. Not hers this time. Mine.

It didn't come from the sky. It came from inside.

My brow furrowed as I leaned forward, stepping off the porch. "...Hello?"

Silence. No birds. No wind. Just the steady boom of her footsteps far away.

I stared at the door for another second, then shook my head. Maybe I was tired. Or maybe her voice had rattled something loose in my brain. Probably both.

Still... the feeling lingered. Like something had brushed up against the edges of my thoughts. Like something was coming.

I looked back to the horizon. Her figure was starting to fade behind the hills, but even so, she still filled the skyline. The clouds parted around her. Birds flew in the opposite direction.

"Be safe, Faylina," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. "You said not to worry. That you'd handle it. I hope to the gods that you can."