Ymiden 1st, 718: Early Morning
He had not made this decision lightly. Eight arcs ago he had left his people's place of refuge with his brother. Eight arcs ago his brother had been lost to the mines, dragged down by some creature and swallowed by the darkness. Eight arcs ago he had made a promise to his brother that he would find him, no matter what it took, and that he wouldn't return to Oscillette until he brought Mirri back with him. For all those years he searched the underground of Yurrova. He exiled himself from his people and his home, finding another in the process of keeping his promise.
A promise that he had to break today.
His feet took him towards the cobalt-colored walls of his city. Zafir didn't even have to think, he had walked these roads often as a child. Never alone, though. Not like he was this trial. He was always nipping at his brother's heels, trying to catch his twin's attention and approval. Mirri was a favorite among their community. Everything that a Treid-fearing Ellune should be. Everything that Zafir couldn't be. He never resented Mirri for that. He deserved the adoration of his people, his parents.
He deserved better than to die screaming in the dark.
He was dead. Zafir didn't have proof, he brought no body back with him, but the Ellune had finally accepted it. After seeing so many corpses last Cycle, so many young faces drained of color and of life, Zafir couldn't deny it anymore. His eight-arc stubbornness had been broken by the blank stares of dead men. Dead boys. He needed to tell his family. He needed to be with his people.
So he had hopped on the closest trading barge, worked his way down the river, and arrived at Ne'haer just in time for the start of the new month. The work did little to numb his pain, working below deck to avoid the encroaching heat, but Zafir pushed through all the same. Just as he pushed through his grief now, letting his feet carry him until he stood before the towering doors of Oscillette. Standing there, he couldn't help but feel a traitor to his blood.
He would have turned around and left, had a voice not called down from the wall. Heartbeat hammering in his eardrums, Zafir didn't hear what the stranger said. He found his tongue had frozen in his mouth. Fear gripped his very core, chilling the man's cold blood more than he thought possible for a being with ice for veins. He should run. It wasn't to late to leave. He could get back on the boat and pretend like he never enter this Immortal's-damned city. By Treid, he wanted to run. Needed to run.
His feet refused to move. His body was in rebellion, determined to deliver his mind to the only people that could help him. Unable to speak or run, Zafir turned his head upward so that he might be seen by the curious watcher on the wall. He raised Sar'Vanis, his family's ancestral War Pick to the sky. A sound of disbelief from above, and that was all the identification Zafir needed.
Sounds of shouting, the movement of feet, and the door opened. A small crowd of Ellune stood before him, shocked faces staring in awe at a man they thought dead. They reached out to him, and he to them. He found his voice.
"Where are my parents? I have news of Mirri." His voice was dry, dark like the coal he pulled from the earth. The Ellune around him shared concerned glances. They shook their heads. One spoke up.
"Gone. 3 arcs ago. They thought both their sons were dead, and they couldn't stand the thought of living in this city anymore. They didn't say where they were going. Just that, 'there was nothing left for them'." The Ellune paused for a moment, reaching his hand out to comfort Zafir. "I'm sorry."
More missing family. He was the only Sar'Vanis left in all of Ne'haer. His shoulder's began to shake. Silver-shedding tears streaked down his cheeks. A moan sounding like a death-rattle tore out of him. The dam had burst, and eight arcs of grief came pouring forth. He had no family left. There was no family here. His knees threatened to collapse underneath him. He turned to leave.
"Zafir, what happened to Mirri?" A regal voice rang out from behind the crowd of Ellune, stopping him where he stood. He knew this voice well, everyone of his people who resided in these walls did. The crowd parted as the man approached.
The Ice King of the West had entered the courtyard. Baelam Sheulai qalar-Treid, owner of Oscillette and ruler of the Ne'haeren Ellune.
