Yvlie, Prima of the Seithr

I don't really remember when this quest started, somewhere between the booze of the Port of London and the long, boring evenings of the bourgeoisie of Saint James. A rumor had piqued my attention: far from the worldly attraction for this pseudo-esotericism, there was a rumor about women. They were heirs to an ancient circle, the Seithr.

It was just a rumor, a story that the old aristos told to show off, a myth that passed from sailor to wheelwright. This idea started to obsess me. I looked for them everywhere I went. My research took me further, out of the City and the grimy streets.

I don't know what got into me. I couldn't be part of it, but I was drawn as if by a long-forgotten goal. It seemed to me that this was the meaning of my whole life. I didn't listen to the gossip that said men who got too close were dead, at best...

The Seithr does not want to be found. He blurs the tracks; he constantly reshuffles the cards.

And then the visions began, indistinct, fluctuating. I was still looking for them, accelerating these images through alcohol and drugs… and then sex. The orgasm propelled me a little further into these visions each time. I saw faces, places...

I don't remember how I woke up there. Without knowing where I was, I finally knew that I was in the right place. This place was familiar. I waited for days before she finally revealed herself to me, without really knowing how long she had been there, Yvlie, prima of Seithr.