Chapter Text
A preliminary map of Alagaësia, or Alagasia, as I have redesigned it. I will be updating it as I introduce new details, and posting new versions to account for territorial changes. As lines of latitude and longitude are not labelled, consider the southernmost reach of Alagasia (the mouth of the Arathi River) to lie at around 28° N, and the upper edge of the map to end around 55° N, a span of some 27°, similar to the span from northern Florida to southern edge of Hudson Bay, or 3000 kilometres (1900 miles). The Prime Meridian passes through the Grand Godshouse in Illyria (itself at 37° N.) Tarim sits at some 10° W, and Alagasia's east coast at some 23° E, spanning 33° and 4500 kilometres (3000 miles). All told, the pictured reaches of Alagasia cover over 13 million square kilometres, or a little over 8 million square miles. (Scroll right to see the eastern portions of the map.)
A doe had come through here not long ago. Fresh tracks were imprinted in the riverside mud, their size and spacing revealing them to be of the same wounded doe that Inara had been chasing since the early morning. It was slowing down. Just a few hours ago, it had been hours ahead of her, but now it was much nearer, probably just half an hour away, especially if it had stopped to rest. Inara felt her heart grow faster. She needed this kill; she'd been out in the hills for several days, and her supplies were lower than she'd have liked. If she missed this doe, she would likely go home with nothing but those rabbits which she could catch on the way back, which yielded little meat for the effort of the catch, and would not last for long into the coming months.
Another, equally pressing need also merited consideration: it was nearly winter, and while no snow had fallen this far down on the mountains yet, it would soon. Winter always came rapidly to the slopes of the Spine; a distant observer might watch as snow descended, a cold blanket slowly unfurling down the slopes. Already, nights were freezing. The last two had been colder than what Inara's bedroll had been made for, and she didn't want to put herself in any unnecessary danger from exposure if she could help it. Winter's approach also meant that the best trails would be closed until spring, and her family would have to spend money it likely wouldn't have on meat. Her village's butcher, a man named Sloan, had never been particularly cheap or empathetic.
Nimbly hopping the small stream, just as had the doe, she continued to follow the nearly invisible game-trail that deer and bears had cut through the hills and valleys of the spine. Had she not followed the trail before of many occasions, Inara knew she would have missed it. In many places, it ceased to be visible even to her, and she had to let her instincts take over. By the time the sun was low in the sky, she was hot in pursuit; the doe was occasionally visible to her, and she could hear it regularly. Patter patter, crash crash, nothing, nothing, patter patter, crash. When it finally hobbled into sight in a clearing next to another little river, a clearing she knew well, Inara's breath was coming out in clouds of frost and steam. From behind a tree near the little glen, out of sight of the doe, she drew and took her shot. The arrow landed right in its flank with a sickening, satisfying thunk.
Before she could even smile at her catch, a blast of noise, a thunderclap at arm's length, enough to leave a ringing in her ears, exploded out through the forest, shaking the ground like an earthquake, accompanied by a flash of almost blindingly intense blue-white light. Inara froze, then crouched, sitting huddled against the tree, waiting for something to happen. Nothing else did. After a few long minutes, still nothing happened, and it didn't seem like anything would. Inara rose, and tentatively looked out from behind the tree.
At first, she couldn't see anything out of place. The doe was still in the little glen, still dead, and the little trickling stream still trickled. Then she looked up. Several of the trees in the next clearing had had most of their lower needles stripped away cleanly, and several emitted breaths of steam. Smoke, clearly distinguishable from the steam rising off the trees, trickled silently into the air. Even as she watched, the smoke gradually diminished. Though fear and consternation slowed her, there was never any real question in her mind as to whether or not to investigate, and once she felt confident there was no danger, Inara strode out into the glen, passed the doe, and then into the next clearing.
It was much of a proper forest clearing, however. The ground had been hollowed out, given the shape of a bowl about thirty feet across, and blackened like charcoal. A couple of small trees were completely stripped of their leafs, and another was torn in half. The glen felt pleasantly warm in the freezing air. Right at the centre of the destruction, in the bottom of the bowl, there was a curious blue stone, around which smoke slowly swirled. Inara stared in awe at the damage wrought, evidently, by a small rock. Had it fallen from the sky? She'd heard about rocks that sometimes fell from the heavens. Meteorite, said a voice in the back of her mind. Was this a meteorite? If it was, was it meant for her? Had she simply been in the right place when it fell? Had the gods sent it to her? What if it was a person who sent it to her? Could people even do that?
When Inara went to investigate the rock, a meteorite, surely it must be, more closely, she saw that it was a completely smooth oval, almost carved in its evenness. Rather like an egg, in fact, but long as a man's forearm. It was sapphire blue, with the lighter shades of a robin's egg tracing crack-shaped lines all around the surface. Just being near it, she could tell that it was special in a way she couldn't quite make sense of. Was it magical, perhaps? That was as good an explanation as any. Were meteorites always magical? Were any of these questions answerable?
Giving in to impulse, Inara reached out ant touched the rock, laying a finger against it softly. Though the ground around it was charred, still warm, the stone was cool to the touch, and smooth as polished ice. She gave it a gentle shove. It proved surprisingly light. Given its modest weight and fascinating appearance, Inara decided to take it and return it to see if this rock might be worth anything to one of the merchants who were coming to the village soon, and so stowed it in her pack before going to deal with doe.