Dark clouds obscure the bright light of the full moons above the forests of Nom. The Fallen, climb down from the rock face and make their way into the village following another of their extraction attempts. Their Captain, Abayo, leaps up onto the kawa of Yudan, the Fallen General.

“Does Torral still stand?” asks Yudan as he exits his hut, stepping out onto the kawa.

“It stands,” says Abayo as he folds his arms across his chest. “But the people there have not seen Mardern in cycles. The prison is deserted, and Arn Guard have all but abandoned them.”

“Deserted?” asks Yudan.

“One of the elders told us; the Mardern have taken any they suspect to be huido. We can only assume they have taken them to the Enig Temple. All prisons this side of Keepers Gate we have already purged.”

“If that is so, we cannot bring them home,” says Yudan.

“I know,” says Abayo, turning towards the glowing clouds that drift across the sky. “I fear that our efforts may have forced the Mardern to explore more destructive tactics.”

“We had no choice,” says Yudan. “Without resistance, the Mardern would have destroyed all hope, and our people would be lost.”

“Our children are being taken from their beds,” says Abayo, clenching his fists. “They are being detained with no explanation under this Mardern law.”

“Many more will die if we go to war, Bayo. We do not know how many huido are out there. It may never be enough.”

“It may have to be,” says Abayo, leaping off the walkway. “Till rise.”

“Till rise,” says Yudan.

Abayo pushes open the door to his hut. He immediately makes his way over to the bed, lifting it to get to the storage chest underneath. Abayo lifts a backpack from the chest, tightening the rope tie before closing the chest quietly. He closes the door and side window before making his way to the back of the hut. He lifts a large wooden flap and pushes his bag through before crawling outside. Abayo kneels behind the bushes and swings the backpack over his shoulder, tying it around his waist. As he creeps silently through the darkness, climbing up and out of the village, a large figure lurks high above in the trees, watching Abayo’s every step.

Abayo arrives at a clearing, at the edge of the forests of Nom. He sits down on a smooth patch in the rough bark of a fallen tree. Taking the time to relax, Abayo watches as a slumberfly flaps by him and lands on the smooth patch to his left. 

“Would you kindly inform your new friend that that seat is taken,” says a deep rasping voice. Abayo lifts his head to witness his brother emerge from the trees before him. He stands and takes his brother by the hand, pulling him close and wrapping his other arm around his back.

“Ghevis,” says Abayo.

“Little brother,” says Ghevis, groaning as he sits down beside him, watching as the slumberfly flaps away. “Is it you that appears young, or I that appears extremely old?”

“You have not changed,” says Abayo.

“Oh, if only that were true,” says Ghevis. “I am but a shadow of my younger self.”

“What of young Brehvis?” asks Abayo.

“Healthy, Strong,” says Ghevis. “But, he is not like you and I.”

“I hope one day, he will not need to be,” says Abayo.

“Hope will not stop them from killing our children,” says Ghevis. “While you are setting our people free, they imprison us no more.”

“It is as I feared,” says Abayo, tightening his fists. “The more we fight, the more we suffer.”

“We are outnumbered,” says Ghevis.

“No,” says Abayo, shaking his head. “We are divided. Our numbers are what threatens them. We must unite the huido. Then we stand a chance.”

“And how do you intend to do that?” asks Ghevis.

“I may have found a way,” says Abayo, turning to look his brother in the eye.

“Hmph. Someone exceptional, I presume” says Ghevis.

“How is it you know that it’s a person I speak of?” asks Abayo.

“Is there another way?” asks Ghevis.

Abayo breathes deeply. “A huido… of kings blood.”

“Where?” asks Ghevis.

“Hidden,” says Abayo. “I freed him from one of their many prisons.”

“Then they know,” says Ghevis.

“That is not yet clear,” says Abayo. “But, given time… it’s inevitable.”

“And then what?” asks Ghevis.

“Then…” says Abayo as he stands. “Then we fight along side him.”

“Let me know when, brother, and I will spread word,” says Ghevis, bowing his head as Abayo’s footsteps drift into the distance.

Sohng lies nestled in a thick pile of dried grass. Saliva trickles out of the corner of his mouth as he sleeps. He briefly peels open his eyes as the cave begins to rock gently. It is not the cave but Sohng’s body that rocks, pushed by a hand rested firmly upon his shoulder. Sohng opens his eyes, gasping as he leaps from the grass and bangs his head against the cave wall behind him.

“Calm yourself,” says Abayo as he kneels down removing his backpack.

“I see you not, in the dark,” says Sohng, rubbing the back of his head.

Abayo, lights a small torch and rests it on the ground. “We will work on that,” he says. “Clearly you’ve slept well.”

“Yes,” says Sohng, nodding and smiling. “I sleep well.”

“Good,” says Abayo, “Then we should begin.”

“Begin? Begin what?” asks Sohng.

“You are going to begin your training.”

“Training?”

“Like practice. learning.” says Abayo.

“Learning what?”

Abayo sits down and points at the ground before Sohng sits down in front of him.

“The reason you’re still alive, is because you are huido,” says Abayo.

Sohng screws up his face, lacking any idea of the meaning of Abayo’s words.

“Illhuido is what we call the ability to connect with the energy within and around us. It is what the gods used to create our world. Those who possess that power, we call huido.”

“You… are huido?” asks Sohng, pointing his finger at Abayo.

“Yes, and so too are you,” says Abayo.

Sohng glances down as he opens his hands and examines his palms.

“Sohng, we don’t have much time. When I came back for you, we were under water. Do you remember the water?”

Sohng nods.

“You were unconscious, asleep, but still breathing. What gives your body life is not solely the air you breathe, the food you eat, the water you drink, or how much you sleep, like other Arcan’s. Do you understand?”

“I am a god?” asks Sohng.

“No, no you’re not a god. You are just much closer to the source of huido than most. All Arcan’s can learn to become huido. And at the same time, all huido are not equal. It is this that I will teach you.”

“Why?” asks Sohng.

Abayo lets out a deep breath. “Because it is an elder huido’s responsibility, his job, to bestow all he knows on those who are worthy. Do you understand that?”

“I understand,” says Sohng.

“Good. You are a fast learner, adaptation is one of our most valuable gifts,” says Abayo as he prepares to stand.

Sohng hangs his head, pulling at a loose thread on the sleeve of his robes.

“Something troubles you,” says Abayo. “I am here not only to teach, but to listen, Sohng. Tell me, what’s on your mind?”

“Who am I?” asks Sohng. “Where am I? Why am I here?”

Abayo’s brow folds together as he reaches for a long, deep breath. “Who you are, and why you were kept in that prison, I do not know, yet. As for, where you are. You are in the half lands, this is what we call a piece of land between two places or landmarks. To the west, the forests of Nom,” says Abayo, drawing a picture in the rock dust with his finger.

Sohng leans forward, watching as a picture begins to emerge before him.

“The trees here are part of the huge great forest to the north. Over here, to the west, the Curtain river. It runs all the way from Dengall in the north, to the Sea of Earsha in the south. On the other side of the river, the Gorran desert, which stretches all the way over into Eastern Arn.”

Sohng’s eyes widen as Abayo shuffles back, making more room for the huge map he is drawing.

“All of this is Arn,” says Abayo. “The largest continent in Arca. The top part is separated by Ice covered mountains we call, Elca.”

Sohng moves back as Abayo climbs over to his side of the map. 

“Over to the west, the Sea of Eads, and this is the land of Kade, the second largest continent.” Abayo draws a large claw shaped piece of land, connecting it to Elca by a thin line.

“This… and this… is one?” asks Sohng, pointing at Kade and Elca.

“Technically, yes,” says Abayo, “But you wouldn’t want to try and cross here. The northern land of Kade is separated from the south, by mountains, just like Elca. This land is called Iin.”

“Eeeen,” says Sohng.

“That’s right,” says Abayo. “The southern lands in Kade are called Kadacia. And this strange island to the south, is called, Crass.”

Sohng tilts his head as Abayo draws a huge diamond shaped land mass at the bottom of the map. Inside it, Abayo draws the shape of an eye to the north, dabbing his finger to make a dot in the middle of the eye.

“This colossal lake is known as, The Eye of Crass. You can see why,” says Abayo, moving back and leaning against the wall. Sohng crawls around the map to take a closer look.

“I will never forget the first time I saw our entire world at once,” says Abayo, pausing as his fond memory brings a smile to his face. “It was an old map, a tapestry my grandfather once hung above his bed.

“Tapestry?” asks Sohng.

“An image, painted or embroidered onto fabric, like your robes,” says Abayo.

“We are here?” says Sohng, pointing at the curtain river.

“Yes, more or less,” says Abayo.

“Why stay here? Why not go here… here… or here?” asks Sohng, pointing at various places on the map.

Abayo leans forward. “Because Arca is a dangerous place. There is much I must teach you  if you are to survive.” 

“Dangerous, why?” asks Sohng.

Because some people are weak, and others are very powerful,” says Abayo as he stands. “Illhuido, the power we possess, is something that many people do not understand. And so, they fear what people like you and I are capable of doing. Unfortunately, those who fear us the most have come to rule Arca. They are the Mardern, and they wish to end the huido.

“Mardern keep me?” asks Sohng.

“Kept you, yes.”

“Who is, Mardern?”

“They were once servants to kings and queens. But when the kingdoms of Arca fell, the Mardern were left behind to rule. They believe that Arcan knowledge and history belong only to them, as they were responsible for documenting such things.”

Sohng lifts his stern brow and looks Abayo in his eyes.

“They are dangerous, Sohng. We do not resist them unless we have to. They are capable of things many huido do not yet understand. They have the advantage. They have knowledge, value, technology. And so we must be strong. United. Understand?”

“What is value? What is technology?” asks Sohng.

“Value is what we use to pay for things,” says Abayo. “Unit pieces, made of gold, silver and Arn core. Technology are the machines and devices the mardern developed for the kings. That technology was intended for the people of Arca, but now, the Mardern keep most of it for themselves.

“You make me strong. I fight Mardern.” says Sohng.

“No,” says Abayo. “I will make you strong, only so you can protect those who are not.”

“When I become Fallen?” asks Sohng. “When I go home?”

“I’m sorry,” says Abayo. “As I told you before, I cannot take you back. You must walk your own path. Come, we must go.”

Sohng follows Abayo out of the cave, down the hill and through the tall grass across the half lands.

“Where do we go?” asks Sohng, grabbing handfuls of grass.

“To the river,” says Abayo. “There is no better way to grasp the concept of illhuido, than to see it for yourself.”

They reach the edge of the river bed. Sohng looks down as he stumbles over the dark pebbles beneath his feet. Abayo stands at the waters edge, looking ominously up and down the river. Sohng picks up one of the pebbles, rubbing the smooth stone between his fingers. A gentle frown folds over Sohng’s brow as he looks up to see Abayo, removing his robes. Naked, apart from his wooden necklace and the bandages around his wrists and ankles, Abayo strides into the water. Sohng walks towards the river as Abayo’s head disappears beneath the surface. Sohng crouches down, plunging his hand into the icy water before quickly pulling it out and shaking it vigorously.

Taken by surprise, Sohng inhales quickly, as a large, dark shape breaks through the surface of the water. The huge shape drifts towards Sohng as he steps backwards at the same pace. As the shape nears him, it continues to rise out of the water, before Abayo appears beneath it. He carries a huge rock, almost as big as Sohng, lifting it out of the river. Abayo places the rock onto the ground and walks back into the water. Sohng is bemused. He stands staring at the rock, his mouth hung open. Abayo emerges once again, this time carrying a smaller rock, about twice the size of his head. He places the small rock a few feet from the large one and begins to put on his robes.

As Abayo tightens his sash, Sohng rubs his hands over the large rock.

“I will find more when it is light,” says Abayo, approaching Sohng. “For now, this will do.” Abayo walks past Sohng and stands before a third rock that already rests on the ground beside the other two.

“Come over here,” says Abayo. “Pick this up.”

Sohng looks down at a stone, a little larger than his head, shaped like poda fruit.

“Pick it up,” says Abayo before picking up the stone and putting it back down. “You do it.”

Sohng glances at Abayo before crouching down and taking hold of the stone with both hands. As Sohng tries to lift the stone, his gaunt, weak body trembles under the tension of his tiny muscles. The stone moves slightly on the ground, but Sohng cannot pick it up. He falls back, defeated, looking up at Abayo and shaking his head.

“That’s okay,” says Abayo. “I will teach you.” He walks over to the largest stone and lifts it up, hoisting it above his head before placing it back down. He approaches Sohng and helps him to his feet.

“This day, your body is not strong,” says Abayo, lifting Sohng’s sleeve, exposing his skinny forearm. “My body is not as strong as many,” he says, lifting his sleeve. “But that doesn’t matter.”

Sohng tilts his head, an emptiness swirls inside him, as he succumbs to an insatiable hunger for knowledge.

“A huido’s strength does not come from here,” says Abayo, prodding Sohng’s bicep. “It comes from here,” he says, placing his fingertips in the centre of Sohng’s chest. “To use this strength, we must first learn here.” Abayo taps the side of his head. “Understand?” He asks.

Sohng nods slowly.

“Your body must obey the rules that your mind has set for it,” says Abayo. “To break the limits of the body, you must change the rules. It is what happened to you when you inhaled all that water.”

Abayo leads Sohng to the edge of the river. “Take off your clothes. You will prefer them dry when we are finished.”

Sohng scrunches up his nose, glancing at the dark water as it rushes by. Abayo peers beneath his furrowed brow, into Sohng’s wide, innocent eyes. Sohng looks down as he takes off his clothes. He stands shivering in the cold wind, looking over his shoulder at Abayo, awaiting further instruction.

“To the water,” says Abayo, pointing his hand at the rivers edge.

Sohng’s short breaths become heavy and rushed as he shivers uncontrollably. He steps slowly into the icy water, his muscles tightening around his bones as the cold pierces his flesh.

“Stop there,” says Abayo.

Sohng stands with his back to Abayo, the water half way between his knees and his hips.

“Turn around, and sit down,” says Abayo. 

Sohng does as he’s told, he sits in the water, only his head above the surface.

“You are not cold,” says Abayo. “The river, is cold. You are alive, you create your own heat to keep you warm. But you are fighting a battle with the river. You wish to warm the water around you. The river wishes to cool your flesh. You are losing your battle, because you have no control over the river. Yet, you let the river take control of you.”

Abayo sits down, crossing his legs and closing his eyes. Sohng bites his teeth together, hissing as he draws for breath.

“Close your eyes and listen to me,” says Abayo. 

Sohng closes his eyes.

“There is a light. It is your light, a small flame in an endless darkness. To see the light you must find your centre, the centre of everything, the centre of your being. It calls you, it pulls you in and you drift towards it. Closer, and closer, and closer.”

Sohng searches for a small light, but all he sees is darkness behind his tightly closed eyelids. Gradually his vision begins to turn a dark shade of red. Sohng’s breathing slows. The redness begins to glow, before turning orange, then yellow, before all Sohng can see is bright white light.

“Are you still cold?” asks Abayo.

Sohng’s breathing is calm, he can feel the water moving around him, but it’s the same temperature as his body. “No,” he says, shaking his head softly.

“Good,” says Abayo, “Then get dressed, we must go.”

Sohng opens his eyes, blinking in the bright light of the sun. How long have they been there? Was it only sunlight that filled his eyes? As Sohng steps out of the river towards his clothes, he looks to his right. Sitting on the riverbank, nestled into the pebbles, is a neat row of ten rocks, arranged in order of their size. Sohng shakes the water from his skin and pulls on his robes.

“You have done well, Sohng,” says Abayo. “You have learned in one night, what takes some, many cycles to master.”

“What have I learned?” asks Sohng.

“The light that you saw, how big was it to begin with?” asks Abayo.

“Everything,” says Sohng. “Big light everywhere.”

Abayo turns away from Sohng and gazes at the ground. “You are a fast learner.”

On the other side of the forests of Nom, just shy of the main western road that reaches the length of Greater Arn, a large hauler cart rumbles towards the town of Qin. Oblivious to their approaching guests, the people of Qin dance and cheer in celebration. Flaming torches light the main street, and tables outside both public and private blocks are stacked with foods and drinks of all kinds. Sitting in a wooden chair, behind a long, dressed table, upon the speaking platform at the town crossroad, sits Ghevis. The oldest man in Qin, Ghevis nods his head and taps his foot to the music, still full of life, eager to receive the blessings of those who line up before him. Sat beside him, Ghevis’ family and closest friends toast his blessings and welcome those who bring tributes.

Ghevis holds out his hand as a young boy, climbs onto the platform and approaches him.

“Brellim, my boy,” says Ghevis, lifting the boy over the table and into his arms, hugging him firmly. “I would not celebrate this day if it were not for my youngest friend, for your light gives me joy, and keeps me strong.”

“Congratulations Master Ghevis,” says Brellim. “I have something for you.”

Ghevis watches as Brellim reaches into the pocket in his robes. Brellim puts out his closed fist and opens his hand to reveal a small wooden ball.

Ghevis chuckles, “And what is this?”

“It’s a sign,” says Brellim. 

“Is it now?” says Ghevis, “How so?” he asks, picking it up and inspecting it closely.

“My father threw it at me when I was young,” says Brellim. “He said when I could catch it, I would go with him to mine the core. And when I can no longer catch it, I must retire and give it to my children.”

“Then surely you should keep it,” says Ghevis.

“No, it’s okay, I have others. I used to lose them all the time.”

Ghevis chuckles before throwing the ball into the air. Brellim lifts his head and looks for the ball as it disappears into the dark sky. He watches as Ghevis holds out his hand and closes it tight just as the ball snaps against his palm.

“Thank you Brellim.”

As the hauler cart roars over the cobbled stone road, its arrival is drowned out by music and song. The cart stops just inside the gates before the rear doors swing open. As countless Mardern step out into the cold of night, the side door at the front of the cart slides open, and out steps a tall woman with all but her eyes wrapped in black robes. The woman is joined by an extremely large Mardern who steps down beside her. She leads the Mardern up the main street, their flag flying high as they march behind her like Arn Guard.

Ghevis continues to accept his blessings while his family and friends eat and drink beside him. His son, Bravis, is torn from conversation with his wife, as a young man leaps upon the platform towards him.

“Master Bravis,” says the man, gasping and leaning on the table as he attempts to catch his breath. “Mardern have been seen on the southern road.”

Bravis stands up, catching the attention of those around him. “How many?”

“At least thirty,” says the man.

Bravis turns to his wife, Peline. “We must abandon the celebration and get father to the hide.”

“You will do no such thing!” bellows Ghevis, scowling beneath the weathered folds in his seasoned brow.

“But father, the Mardern are no longer taking prisoners, if we don’t get you to safety…”

Ghevis slams his fist against the table. “Do you know how many lives I have witnessed people waste in all my years. Cycle after cycle, I have watched, as the people I love have sacrificed themselves to protect what they do not understand. Let this be an education. Let them come. Do not deny me my fate, for your own selfish means. I am not yours to keep, nor am I yours to command. Now, sit-down!”

Peline reaches for Bravis’ hand, she gently pulls him back down into his seat.

“Thank you, Topas,” says Bravis, “Maintain calm, as best you can.”

Topas bows at Bravis, a wrinkle of concern beneath the hair over his face. He turns to Ghevis and bows before hopping off the platform and running down the street.

“Do you think it necessary for these children to bear witness?” asks Bravis.

“There are none that need learn as much as they,” says Ghevis.

People rush desperately up the street. The band stop playing as the Mardern pass the town well and make their way towards the platform. The townspeople continue to move back, crowding the street as the Mardern march around the platform and turn to face Ghevis and his party. The crowd fall silent as a Female Mardern steps forward, removing her hood and head wrap.

“I fail to remember extending invitations to public servants,” says Ghevis, reaching for his tankard.

“We are not here to celebrate,” says the woman. “We are here to arrest a criminal.”

The crowd begin to murmur softly while Ghevis sips his drink.

“There are no criminals here,” says Ghevis, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“And yet I look upon the you, Ghevis, son of Imharo. It is not often an Arcan lives to see two hundred and ninety days.”

“I am well looked after,” says Ghevis.

“You have been well protected,” says the woman. “But it is not you we are here for.”

The murmurs grow louder as Bravis looks to his father with wide eyes filled with regret.

“I told you, there are no criminals here,” says Ghevis.

“Then I trust you have not reviewed our laws,” says the woman.

“Nobody can keep up with your laws, you make them up as and when it serves you,” says Ghevis.

“Our laws protect our people,” says the woman. “This one in particular.” She lifts a small scroll from her waist and unravels it. “In addition to article one one four, any persons believed to be attempting to, or positioned by partnership, with the means to conceive offspring of such descendants will themselves be detained under section nine of the huido diminution act.”

Ghevis turns to Bravis who glances at Peline and takes her by the hand, holding it firmly. Ghevis presses his hand against the table, cracking and denting the wood with his fingertips.

“Enough! That is enough,” bellows Ghevis, silencing the crowd. “You will not take my daughter for a child she is yet to conceive, nor will you interrupt my celebration without offering me a blessing.”

People in the crowd turn to each other in shock. All eyes turn to the woman as she steps onto the platform and approaches Ghevis. As she reaches the table, Ghevis stands. Although the woman is taller than all but few, his massive frame towers over her as she bends her neck to look into his cold, black eyes.

“What is your name?” asks Ghevis, quietly.

“I am Kerida, senior Mardern of the sixth Mardern faction.”

“Well, Kerida, If you think I’m going to let you take my daughter, you are mistaken,” says Ghevis. “However, I offer you my life, so that you may avoid the consequence of your master’s disappointment.”

“And exactly what do you intend to do if I decline your offer?” asks Kerida.

“You will not decline,” says Ghevis.

“Oh,” says Kerida, “And why is that?”

“Because I have information far too valuable to be lost. And as long as there is life in this body, I will use every spark of my being to destroy anything that threatens the lives of my family.”

“How could I possibly value information I know nothing about,” says Kerida.

“Then I shall grant you this,” says Ghevis. “I know that the king’s blood still lives.”

Kerida’s face is still for an extended moment before a short, sharp laugh bursts through her smile. “You’ll have to do much better than that.”

“So… You do already know,” says Ghevis, narrowing one eye.

Kerida laughs once more as she turns towards the Mardern. “Take her.”

“No,” says Bravis, leaping to his feet, “We have done nothing, we threaten no-one. Every Arcan is descended from huido, you cannot simply imprison us all!”

Kerida steps down from the platform, paying no attention to Bravis’ plea. Four Mardern step towards the table, their eyes fixed upon Peline.

“What now father?” asks Bravis.

Ghevis unties the sash around his waist and removes his heavy gown. The Mardern stop and look towards him as Ghevis picks up his tankard and sips the last of his drink, slamming the tankard onto the table. “You had your chance, woman.”

“No, Ghevis,” says Peline as she stands. “Let them take me, no lives need be lost.”

“Peline,” says Bravis, taking hold of her hand.

Ghevis turns to Peline, his eyes beginning to glow. “Don’t be foolish, my child.  Mardern mean to spare no lives to obtain what they desire.”

Two of the Mardern continue towards Peline while the other two approach Ghevis. 

“Brother!” cries an elder from the crowd hurling a bow staff through the air. Ghevis catches the staff and immediately kicks the table. The huge wooden table slides across the ground, slamming into the four Mardern, sending them tumbling over the edge of the platform, and crashing into their compatriots. Kerida leaps over the table as it skids to a stop. She scowls at Ghevis as the Mardern quickly rise to their feet. But as they begin to rush towards him, individuals begin to leap from the crowd attacking the Mardern from behind. The largest of the Mardern steps between them, smashing the table in half with one hand, tossing each half over the sides of the platform.

“Father,” says Bravis, glancing between Ghevis and the huge Mardern.

“I have him,” says Ghevis, “You must not leave Peline.”

“Numouh!” cries Kerida. “This one has lived long enough.”

Numouh smiles and takes a last step towards Ghevis who looks up at his massive shoulders, gripping tightly to his staff. Numouh quickly reaches for Ghevis but the old man is too fast. He leaps back, spinning his staff and striking Numouh in the middle of his head. Quickly Numouh takes hold of the staff and pulls Ghevis towards him, taking hold of his throat.

“Father!” cries Bravis. But as he steps forward, intent on leaping to his father’s rescue, two elders leap high over them and strike Numouh hard on both sides of his face. Numouh grimaces before jumping up, spinning rapidly and kicking both the elders with the same foot. The elders tumble off the sides of the platform. Behind Numouh, the Mardern immobilise those who attack them. With the huido all but beaten, Kerida smiles and steps onto the platform towards Bravis.

“You know what you need to do,” says Kerida.

“My father’s life is almost over,” says Bravis. “He will never forgive me should we concede.”

“Good boy,” says Ghevis.

Kerida glances at Numouh, and nods. Immediately Numouh crushes Ghevis’ throat, holding his limp body aloft.

“Father!” cries Bravis.

“Need all their lives pay for just this one?” asks Kerida.

Bravis raises his fist before Peline reaches out and places her hand softly on top of it. 

“We cannot contend them, my love,” says Peline, tears spilling from her gaze as she steps forward and stands before Kerida.

“Please, spare them,” says Peline.

“My darling,” says Kerida. “Vengeance is insatiable, it will bring shadows to a dead man’s door. That is not a consequence I wish to endure.”

Peline hangs her head as tears continue to drip from her face. She dare not turn around, showered by the gasps of her kin as Bravis’ body crumples against the ground.

Kerida links arms with Peline as they lead the Mardern back down the southern road towards the town gates. They leave behind them a haunted crowd, still stiffened in shock as they bawl and howl, attending to the battered bodies of the few who were brave enough to give their lives. Among them, a young boy stands perfectly still, watching as the Mardern disappear in the distance. He is unmoved, as an elderly hand rests softly upon his shoulder.

“Come, Brellim.This is no place for a child.”