E'renthus had almost become a home away from home for her. Well… in the way she could have a home, she supposed. Arases knew that she'd never truly lay roots, even here. The winds and horizons always called, but when the hooves were sore and the provisions light, nesting for a season was a means of survival. The shadowed town provided literal shelter despite the cracks and collapses and was a playground for trinkets and baubles that could be transformed and edited to fit her means - makeshift weapons, booby traps, and other affects to ward off those who'd seek ill will. Though the concept was strange, E'renthus was as familiar to her now as was Maretak - more so. She'd rarely visited the streets of that frigid fortress, but she'd walked the cobblestones of this hallowed town day-in and day-out. She knew the crooks, crannies, alleys, and all the short cuts. She'd deny that it was her home, she'd deny she even had a place to live... Yet, in a way that a home is a home to her, Arakses could tell when something was different.

And something was different.

It had begun with the otherworldly glow from the monoliths. Arakses had seen them glow once upon a time, here and there, in the hours of late when the sun was lowering and the bruised sky rose. It was magic, if not eerie, and she rarely investigated. Once you see em glow, you've seen them glow, right? There was no need to draw further attention to her freeloading. However, the light steadily grew in frequency, if not intensity, over a range of days, as did an audible and physical hum. At first she'd simply thought it pestering flies that she never could quite swat away. Other times she considered there was a chance she'd caught a common bug and was coming down with an illness, but it never quite continued that direction. It took little time to connect the increasing brilliance of Gonnoth's glow with the manifesting vibrations. One foggy night, when the glow still permeated through the brume, Arakses thought the resulting tremor in her body felt similar to the quakes just before an avalanche. Not only was something different, but something was coming. The question started to muse not on what it was, but if she would investigate.

Finally, she was woken from slumber, curled in her nest of tattered fabrics tucked away in the corner of a home with half a roof, to a penetrating hum that vibrated in her very core, if not all the way to the depths of her soul. It tugged at the emptiness in her chest that had long frozen over in the harsh winters of Maretak, bidding her follow, follow, follow. When she blinked, attempting to ignore the physically present sound, all she saw were the duo ring of stone pillars in their glow. They came closer, closer, and closer, until finally her eyes opened wide to shoo the image away. Gonnoth was calling. There was no more denying it.

Initially, she was apprehensive. She’d trapped game more than once with promises of a meal or enticing smells, and this felt no different. It was curiosity, mystery, wrapped in a bow to hide the trap. Of this, she was certain. She may not fear, but she knew when danger was present and how to avoid it. However... the longer the hum pressed into her chest, the louder it buzzed in her ear, the beckon broke through. As she stood, shaking the dust that had settled upon her back, she pondered what consequences may come from investigating just what was happening up on that high hill. Would she be teleported again? Was some angry, eldritch god could to spill forth from the altar and slaughter her in sacrifice? Perhaps it was simply the magic in the locale building until it would explode. Every scenerio only further piqued her eagerness to sleuth the truth, and she let out a sigh. She'd go.

Gonnoth. Seemed she was ever drawn there…

With each step she drew nearer to the humming, almost deafening song of the monoliths Arakses couldn’t help but feel like a moth drawn to a flame… especially when she crested the hill to find no others insight. She approached with a mixture of ease and caution. Every stride was deliberate, held a commanding strength, and bravado that refused to flounder in the face of the ethereal glow. Her vision danced along the runes and filigree, spied the inscriptions she'd previously (and still) didn't know how to interpret. What would they say? What did it mean? And why had it drawn her here?