Chapter 4: Heartflame (Patreon)

The afternoon following Rowan’s confrontation progressed with everyone busying around her like bees. Hæra gave her advice on other options she could take in the future, suggesting that a defensive approach may be more prudent.

Rowan couldn’t help but roll her eyes in response as she knew her mother would have acted in much the same way had it been Bragi’s father, if not worse.

Actually, the more Rowan thought about it, a similar exchange between the two of them would border on cataclysmic. They hated each other with an untold passion that their children could only emulate. But Hæra wanted to at least put on a show of being a responsible adult and performance was her specialty.

While Hæra talked to Rowan, Gyren went to find their family doctor, Doctor Bræn. When Gyren returned with the doctor, he immediately got to work, making sure Rowan’s injuries weren’t any worse than they appeared.

“From the look of things, you’ve got two bruised ribs. Fortunately, the swelling isn’t too bad, and there aren’t any signs of serious internal trauma. I’ll need to go back and get the requisite medicines so that we can have you healthy in little more than the blink of an eye.”

Rowan was surprised her ribs weren’t broken, as every movement caused pain to shoot through her body. If bruised ribs felt this bad, she could only imagine how much worse things would’ve been had they actually broken.

Doctor Bræn also pointed toward her ankle. “I’ll also bring something for the ankle. Looks like you took a nasty fall.”

Even though she knew he was just doing her job and looking after her, it felt like she’d been called out for not reporting the injury sooner.

Unsurprisingly, Hæra and Gyren were quite put out that Rowan hadn’t told them about that particular accident, sharp glances thrown her way, but they chose not to comment on it.

Satisfied with his exam, Doctor Bræn left to retrieve the supplies for her. When he returned, he gave her some rather strong pain medication and a poultice to be used on both her ankle and ribs.

“The job is all done. She should recover just fine in no time. If you need me again, you know where to find me,” he said, waving goodbye and departing.

After the doctor left, Hæra soon followed suit to talk to the Town Council so that she could settle the whole An’Teag issue once and for all. She also had to ensure that Rowan wasn’t unjustly punished for the confrontation with Bragi.

Gyren had to return to his store as well, so the responsibility fell on Tyris to be the watchful big brother. He spent that time telling Rowan and Tehri stories of legendary Ardents and Stoics.

Rowan was fascinated by stories that she was sure were heavily embellished; there was just simply no way a Stoic Kairosi Fire Monk could devour a blazing inferno single-handedly no matter how strong they were. Tehri, on the other hand, was markedly less interested, so Tyris tried to engage her in a Ferran game called Ruun. What amazed Rowan almost as much as the stories is that it actually worked.

As afternoon said its goodbyes and evening came waltzing in, Rowan came to the conclusion that it was a good day. Compared to the last encounter she’d had with Bragi, she was feeling ecstatic, over the moon even. For the first time in her short life, she had won against her great and terrible tormentor, and it was a victory to end the war.

Though, something did confuse her about the blow she had given Bragi. When the rumour mill delivered the news of what had actually happened when his crotch popped, all the men around her turned dead white.

*****

Rowan expected to be out of action for a few weeks at least due to her ribs. However, Doctor Bræn’s poultice worked miracles and Rowan was active within a few days. Not only did the poultice bring down the swelling, it also did wonders at clearing up the bruising.

Unfortunately, she still hadn’t fully recovered and had been banned from visiting the forest until she had been given the all-clear from the doctor. She was still free to be physical in other ways as long as there was little risk of any blunt-force trauma to her ribs, but she was still rather disappointed. That is to say, right up until she came to a realisation; she could still, in theory, learn the basics of how to fight with a sword or some other weapon if she could convince someone to teach her.

Following the fifth day of recovery, Rowan hunted down Tyris to try and persuade him that giving her lessons was an excellent idea. It turned out that this battle would be just as hard as her last conquest against Bragi as it turned into a war of attrition.

Tyris’ resolve was ironclad. Rowan found it admirable, though she totally wasn’t jealous. That is until his resolve finally broke after a week of Rowan chipping away at it.

“Come on, Tyr!” Rowan sighed indignantly. “It’s been a week already; what’s the worst that could happen?”

“You could get hurt again, make your injuries worse.” Tyris’ voice was wary as he responded. He had forgotten how insistent his sister could be.

“We both know that’s not gonna happen if we’re only practising the basics.”

“What about sparring?” Tyris asked. ”That’s an essential part of learning.”

“Who says we need to spar until I’m ready?”

Tyris wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he tried a different argument. “Well, you still don’t have your strength back.”

“Do you want me to do a handstand?” She had responded before Tyris even finished his sentence. “I’m fine. Honest.”

“What about…”

“Irrelevant. I’ve heard all of your arguments, and you won’t change my mind. I’ve seen you doing exercises outside, and they aren’t that far off dancing in terms of intensity. You do know that Ma let me start back up with my dance lessons over five days ago, don’t you?”

She took a second to breathe after that to see if Tyris would respond, but he knew she wasn’t finished. Smiling to herself, Rowan revealed her trump card.

“I’ve also seen enough of your routines and exercises to try it myself, but that would be incomplete and probably be beyond my level, especially without any fundamentals. Now that would be dangerous. So doesn’t it stand to reason that I should have someone teach me so that I don’t mess up?”

Rowan felt a little guilty using that line as it was a touch on the manipulative side, but she felt it was important that she started young. Furthermore, she knew if she waited until she was fully recovered, Tyris would have likely already left.

“Fine!” he sighed in exasperation. “But only under a few very important conditions. First, we clear it with mother and father. If you can’t convince them, you haven’t convinced me yet. Second, we will only cover the absolute basics and fundamentals until you have recovered more. I will talk with Doctor Bræn to work out suitable parameters. Thirdly, I insist that Kiriin and Kyr partake in the training as well. That way I can trust that you will watch each other and keep each other safe. Plus, having people to train with is the best way in my opinion.”

Rowan nodded in acknowledgement of all three of Tyris’ conditions. They made sense, and she was only responsible for fulfilling two of them.

To Tyris’ surprise, Gyren took more persuading, but Rowan knew it would play out that way. Hæra just needed to hear the points in a concise manner and get Tyris’ assurances. Gyren, however, hated the idea of either of his daughters getting hurt.

Rowan felt like he worried too much at times, but she loved him all the more for it. Even so, he relented, and the twins didn’t need any persuading. Neither did their parents, except for requiring that it didn’t get in the way of school.

*****

Rowan’s excitement for the upcoming lessons continued to grow like a rising crescendo, right up until it came crashing down as Tyris began his first lecture. What made it even worse was the smug grin he gave her as he went into proper safety measures. For those first few hours, she would have rather been lectured at by Master Idyr. At least he wouldn’t be rubbing it in her face.

Fortunately, it didn’t take Tyris too long to move on to the more interesting aspects of martial theory. So much so that Rowan was able to start absorbing information. It still sucked that there weren’t any practical elements in the beginning, but Tyris was being overly careful to not strain her.

That over-protectiveness lessened with each day, to the point that Tyris brought in some practice weapons for them to try out. Rowan could only guess where he had managed to procure so many as he had acquired at least one of almost every commonly used weapon in the Midiran military, as well as a couple of the less commonly used ones. The only exceptions were some of the longer battlefield polearms.

The initial idea behind Tyris bringing the weapons in so early was to give everyone a feel for them. This was made possible by each one having comparable weight and balance to their combat-ready counterparts. Granted, the rounded mace and warhammer may well have been combat-ready, all things considered.

Alas, actually learning how to use the weapons beyond the basic theory was not yet on the agenda. Before that, Tyris wanted to focus on stances and footwork. At first, Rowan felt that the whole exercise would be trivial, considering how she danced almost every day. It took a fair while to correct her of that notion, as Tyris couldn’t utilise the age-old tactic of “push them over”; at least, not whilst Rowan was still recovering.

The way he got around this restriction was through self-sacrifice, also known as teaching by example. He emulated Rowan’s movements and had all three of them take turns at knocking him off balance. He then repeated the exercise, but with proper footwork. The lesson was painfully clear; Tyris could feel the bruises already.

Fortunately, Rowan’s experience did let her quickly adapt from the open and fluid motions she was using to the tighter, more efficient movements and lower centre of mass required of good martial footwork. With that in mind, she still had a slight dancer’s flair. No amount of lecturing from Tyris would strike it from her style. He also didn’t complain too much as she still progressed a fair bit faster than the other two, at least in this aspect of their training.

Once Tyris deemed that Rowan was ready, he had them introduce various weapons into their routine. Spears, swords, and shields were amongst the first he had them train with. He wouldn’t shut up about the importance of shields and spears. To be fair, he had a point. Spears weren’t the most popular weapon throughout history for nothing, and shields could protect most of the body when used correctly. The reach advantage offered by spears was particularly useful for Ferran’s with their shorter stature. That is, when they weren’t using bows.

From the get-go, Kyr looked like a natural once he had a weapon in his hands and he was able to train with it. It was Rowan’s first time really seeing such an overt application of his Gift. As an Elite, his ability to learn martial skills, be they practical or theoretical, was greatly enhanced. Rowan wasn’t sure exactly how it worked, but that was the general idea at least.

Strangely enough, however, Kiriin was falling behind. She should have been right up there with Kyr. They were twins, after all, and twins almost always had the same Gift as it was based on which lunar month a person was born. The only exceptions were when someone was born during a double lunar eclipse or during the transition between lunations.

It was in following that line of thinking that Rowan realised Kiriin’s great deception. The twins had been born at the end of the third crimson lunation of The Warrior. So much so that the transition must have happened as the two were being born.

In hindsight, it all made so much sense. Rowan had ignored the possibility as she had always believed the transition happened during the middle of the night and the twins were born solidly during the day. It was such a narrow understanding that refused to take into account the Resonance between Illyria and the Goddess via the moons.

Of course, that was only the strictly academic reason why it made sense, but it didn’t explain why it should have been obvious. No, that came from the Gift that followed immediately after the Elite and the simple fact that Kiriin was bloody brilliant at sneaking around. She had the Gift of the Stalker and it explained her ability to blend in perfectly.

Unfortunately, the lack of a supporting Gift or any significant observational experience left Kiriin falling behind the others. It didn’t help that Tyris’ lessons on weapons opened up significantly after they moved on from the basics of swords and spears.

She didn’t let herself get overwhelmed by decision paralysis, however. Instead, she opted to focus on only a few weapons that Rowan felt complimented her Gift quite nicely, namely bows, daggers, and short spears.

Specialising in archery was clearly cheating as Tyris refused to let Rowan use a bow until she was fully healed. Even so, she didn’t mind too much. Not only that, seeing Kiriin work so hard ignited her own competitive spirit. It got to the point that Tyris had to stop her from pushing herself beyond her limits.

On the flip side, Kyr was notably more level-headed in his approach. He focused on giving each weapon a go and looking into their pros and cons, both from a theoretical and a practical standpoint. In time, this led to him working out what he wanted to focus on.

He had a clear preference for two-handed weapons, especially spears and longswords. He also lamented rather loudly that they didn’t have any greatswords or halberds to train with. It took Tyris pointing out that he would need to be a fair bit stronger to be able to use such weapons effectively for him to shut up about it.

Compared to Kiriin and Kyr, Rowan took a much more haphazard approach to finding what she wanted to focus on. At first, she tried, somewhat foolishly, to be the best at everything. Such was the path of a competitive Rowan.

After Tyris scolded her for going overboard, she just followed her heart. It was a surprise to no one that she had a fondness for bladed weapons. This was particularly true of the willow leaf sabre with its resemblance to Elan Fiir, the family sword.

Of course, she didn’t just limit herself to a single weapon. She did, however, make sure that she specialised in weapons that went well with a more fluid fighting style. At least, that was the driving force behind most of her choices, which were almost all swords.

The rest of her choices were more practical, even if she was still guided to them by her heart and a desire to be able to defend herself. The first of these choices came in the form of knife fighting as she was determined to carry around her dagger at all times; not least because it was a useful tool.

Secondly, she wanted to practise fighting whilst unarmed. The altercation with Bragi made it clear that she needed some kind of backup for whenever she was in a position where she couldn’t run away or use a weapon. This was just another way for her to put faith in her legs.

Lastly, Rowan made plans to practise archery once she was fully healed, and not just because she was jealous that Kiriin could do something that she couldn’t do. Not at all. Such thoughts never once popped into her mind. How could they? They couldn’t. She was far too busy looking forward to seeing how they would all improve in the future.

They’d be able to go all out with their training once she was fully healed. Well, almost all out.

*****

Towards the end of the month, just before the Solstice, Rowan finally asked the question that had been bugging her ever since she read his letter to her on her birthday. Why had he decided to pass on the right to inherit Elan Fiir to her, and why then? Hæra had explained it, but she still didn’t understand that well.

“Why, you ask?” he responded. “That’s a good question.” Having responded, Tyris paused dramatically, causing Rowan to sigh and palm her face, an act which caused him to deflate a little bit. “Well, I’ve got a couple of reasons, I guess; the first of which is fairly easy to explain.”

“Okay?” Rowan said expectantly.

“So first of all, the blood of our Ferran ancestors is strong in you, stronger than me or Tehri for sure. Neither of us inherited the Ferran eyes, after all, and I know for sure that I couldn’t deliver a kick like you did to Bragi. Does it not make sense then, that you should inherit the sword?”

“Maybe? I don’t see why that’s relevant.” Rowan was still rather confused by his reasoning.

“Resonance, my dear Rowan!” Tyris exclaimed with an uncanny enthusiasm. “Elan Fiir was forged from the crystallised tears of ancestors, so it stands to reason that the stronger our connection to the bloodline, the stronger our Resonance to them and the sword. I think that is the key to drawing upon the sword’s power. Are you following?” he asked, taking a moment to catch a breath and make sure he hadn’t lost Rowan.

She nodded, so he continued, “Right! Second reason: you wear your emotions on your sleeve, Rowan, much like the Ardents that the Naliir of old were known for. You have their strength. It is my hope that, one day, you will embody the legacy of our ancestors, my little crusader.”

Tyris’ explanation left Rowan’s jaw hanging. She wasn’t sure of how to respond, especially as something seemed odd about his tone when he mentioned Ardents. Kyr and Kiriin were also listening with bated breath. After a moment, Rowan finally responded. “Aren’t I a wee bit young for such lofty expectations?” she asked.

“Perhaps. However, I believe you are strong enough to bear it on your little shoulders. There is another factor that I’ve yet to mention that makes you rather unique. You see, a few very important factors aligned on your birthday to create a special kind of Resonance that is extremely rare. Primarily, both of the Goddess’ Sacred Primes were in Resonance. I swear, the only way it could have been more perfect would have been if it were a double eclipse…”

As Tyris rambled on, Rowan stared at him blankly. “I didn’t understand a word you just said,” she stated flatly.

“Sorry, let me explain. On your birthday, several Resonance Factors came into alignment. The most important of these Resonance Factors was tied strongly to the Resonance of the Goddess’ Sacred Primes of three and eleven. I’m sure you can already see how it being your eleventh birthday is significant. So then we have the second Factor — you’re still confused, aren’t you?”

Rowan nodded.

“Is it the Resonance Factor?”

She nodded again.

“Well, that complicates things slightly. So Resonance Factors are the metaphysical interactions that allow for especially strong Resonance to occur. These Factors can then further Resonate with each other to amplify the effect even more. Does that make more sense?” Rowan nodded for the third time before letting Tyris continue. “In the correct circumstances, Resonance Factors can fundamentally change the world. Nations have collapsed and races have been born because of the proper Resonance Factors aligning.

“Anyway, I think that covers the basics of Resonance Factors. If you want to know more, I recommend asking Master Idyr, but it should suffice for now. I’ve already covered the first factor, and the second is somewhat related as we were born eleven years apart. The third and final factor lies in the fact that you are mother’s third child”

“Wait!” Rowan suddenly interjected. “What do you mean? Tehri is Ma’s third child, isn’t she?”

Tyris flashed a look that made it clear that he had said something he shouldn’t have. “You should ask Mother about that,” he responded, trying to cover for the mistake. “Now, that’s enough long-winded explanations. It’s only a day until the Solstice and then I’m leaving, so back to the lessons we go.”

Tyris moved on without finishing his explanation and instead left Rowan with even more questions. And while the twins engaged in the renewed lessons with enthusiasm, Rowan couldn’t shake Tyris’ words. What did he mean by ‘third child’, and why had he mentioned Ardents in such an odd tone? She wished that she could ask her mother, but she was busy preparing for the Solstice Festival.

*****

Over the next day, Rowan found her mood dropping to a new low, even rivalling Tehri’s demeanour for most of the past couple of weeks. Because of what Tyris had said, she was sure that her family had been keeping some great secret.

It hadn’t been the first time that Rowan picked up on something odd when Ardents had been mentioned; there had been the look her mother had earlier that week amongst other times. Then there was the heavy implication that she had an older brother or sister that she knew nothing about. As she thought about it more and more, dark and horrible thoughts clouded her mind.

Why? Why haven’t Ma and Da told me anything? Did I do something? Am I the reason that they aren’t around? Did I hurt them? Is it Bragi? Please don’t be Bragi. Does that mean that Ma was unfaithful?

No! She wouldn’t do that!

But, what then? Did Bragi’s Da hurt her? Ma did say that bad people sometimes forced themselves on others. He could have. He does hate half-breeds.

The thoughts were driving Rowan to the brink of despair, and tears flooded her eyes. No matter what she did, she couldn’t make them go away; they just kept getting worse and worse. As evening approached, she found the relentless doubts and thoughts to be unbearable. Rowan struggled to think of any options that would help.

In the end, she hoped that asking her mother would at least answer a couple of her questions. She found Hæra practising a song for the dance around the bonfires at the end of the festival. When Rowan entered the room, Hæra turned quickly and hurried over to Rowan when she noticed her red and puffy eyes.

“What’s the matter, dear? Are you okay?”

“It’s my head,” Rowan explained, tears in her eyes. “I cannae stop my thoughts from racing. No matter what I do, I keep thinking awful things like maybe Bragi’s Da hurt you a really long time ago, and— and—” Rowan’s voice trailed off into a sob.

“What made you think that?” Hæra asked, looking rather concerned.

“Tyris mentioned that I was your third child, and I thought maybe Bragi— I mean, it would explain why you hate them, and they already hate us. And then I thought if that wasn’t true, then maybe I did something wrong and, because of that, I’m not allowed to know about my other big brother or sister. Maybe I hurt them?” At this point, the tears in her eyes were flowing free.

Hæra quickly brought the sobbing Rowan into her arms as she tried to comfort her. “Oh, Rowan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think keeping this secret would hurt you so much. I should have known. I thought that if you knew, you would blame yourself. Perhaps if I’d told you when you were younger, it wouldn’t have been so heavy a blow. I can’t promise that knowing the truth will make you feel any better, but you deserve to know. Are you okay with that?”

Rowan nodded meekly and buried her face into Hæra’s shoulder. “Now, before I tell you, know that it wasn’t your fault and, no matter what, I love you. We all do.”

“Mhmm.”

Hæra started to stroke Rowan’s hair as she began to explain the truth behind the long-kept secret. “Your father and I have been holding onto this secret since you were born. The truth is that you weren’t alone. Just before you, your twin sister, Rina, was born. I still remember the day. She was much quieter than you were, but she was still a healthy little girl and, in any other family, she would have remained that way. Unfortunately, we aren’t any other family.”

Rowan looked up when her mother paused, waiting for more. When nothing came, she cleared her throat and said, “Meaning?”

“Long ago,” Hæra started again with a sigh, “something happened to one of our ancestors following a double solar eclipse. By all accounts, it was a freak occurrence, something that should’ve been impossible, and it caused all manner of changes and bizarre Resonance to the area that was touched by the totality of the eclipse. That’s what led to the birth of the Ferran.”

“Isn’t that just a legend? Aren’t we supposed to be God-touched like the Kairosi and Miriel?” Rowan asked.

“The event was well recorded at the time, and we weren’t the only thing that was changed. Everything in that area was. From the animals to the trees, to the land itself. The Resonance was just that powerful. The progenitor of our lineage and a few others saw that power and sought to harness it somehow. I don’t know the details surrounding their ritual, but it worked. Everyone involved was imbued with the essence of Rowan’el, as were their descendents.

“Even now, it affects us. Because of that ritual, our bloodline is known for producing incredibly strong Ardents, as are the others, though I don’t know if any have survived to this day.”

“That cannae be the full story,” Rowan interrupted.

"Of course not. Let me finish next time. Anyway, as a secondary effect of the ritual our connection to the Azure Eye was also damaged by the ritual. Since then, there hasn’t been a single Stoic born of our bloodlines. Everyone who Awakens in our family always does so as an Ardent.

“Alas, this brings us to why your sister isn’t with us. You were identical twins, and when one identical twin has the potential to Awaken, so does the other. However, this is guaranteed to result in an Ardent-Stoic pair. It’s random which one ends up as which, but it is set in stone long before they Awaken. In yours and Rina’s case, she was set to be the Stoic, and the Resonance of that potential and our bloodline caused her body to quickly deteriorate. She passed away a few months later.”

There were a couple of tears twinkling in Hæra’s eyes as she finished explaining. It was a lot for Rowan to take in; she felt like her world had simultaneously been shattered whilst also being cleared of the haze that had plagued her for the past day.

Rowan cried for the sister she never knew she had and smiled for the future she was now determined to live for the two of them.

“Thank you for telling me, Ma,” Rowan finally said after she finished crying.

“I should never have kept it a secret from you,“ Hæra responded, wiping away Rowan’s tears, “I only hurt you more by doing so.” She then smiled at Rowan. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up and ready for the Festival. We’ll sing and dance together in memory of your sister.”

Rowan nodded quietly as Hæra carried her through to the bath. It was at times like this that Rowan was reminded of how surprisingly strong her mother was. Barely two fingers taller than five feet and slight of build, she had no difficulty carrying Rowan with a gentle grace, and while Rowan was small, she was still only a foot shorter than Hæra.

Like a river, Rowan let the bath wash away her worries, and the scent of roses soon warmed her heart. It was time to get ready for the Festival.

Rowan stood in her room wearing a beautiful white dress that fell just above her knee. It was held with a belt around her waist, and in the right light, she was positively incandescent.

About her feet, she wore sandals that wrapped around her ankles. As always, her neck was graced by the twin moon pendant which was even more meaningful to her now as she felt it represented her and Rina. To complete her ensemble, she wore her hair in a loose ponytail held by the hair clip she had received from Kiriin and Kyr.

All in all, she barely recognised herself. Especially since Hæra had insisted on doing her makeup. She looked in the mirror and smiled, her rosebud lips and large violet eyes shining.

She was ready to leave.

*****

The sun had just started to set when Rowan and her family arrived at the park outside of town where the festival was being held. To Rowan’s young eyes, it almost looked like the entire town had gathered around the unlit bonfire, though she knew how unlikely that was. Some folk preferred more private celebrations and others were too old, young, or unwell to attend. Not that it made the event any less awe-inspiring or jubilant.

The sound of music filled the air as children played and adults made merry with wine and ale, while a troupe of fire dancers dazzled any and all spectators as they made their offering to the sun, the Heart of the Father.

To any other in attendance, the Festival wasn’t much different from how it usually was. To Rowan, however, it was near overwhelming. With how her emotions had been bombarding her heart, everything was infinitely more intense. She couldn’t help but stare into the flames in breathless wonderment.

Rowan was snapped out of her bedazzlement by a hand landing on the top of her head. A slight turn to look over her shoulder revealed Tyris, his hand unmoved.

“Why is your hand up there?” she asked, somewhat confused and unaware as to how long she had been in a daze.

After a moment of letting the question hang, he responded dramatically, “I merely noticed my dear little sister entranced by the flames. I took it upon myself to bring you back from the land of dreams. Now fly, little robin, and dance the night away.”

He looked down towards Rowan to see the effect his words and melodramatic delivery had had on her. She blinked a couple of times in response, caught completely off guard by her brother’s melodramatic outburst.

His words were so completely unexpected and outrageous, that she couldn’t help but laugh. With her silvery peals of laughter, Rowan’s emotions flowed free, and she found herself somewhat grounded. She smiled and went searching for Kiriin and Kyr before Tyris started another embarrassing tirade to encourage her to have fun.

Amongst the setting sun, Rowan danced her heart out with Kiriin and Kyr and then her family. She danced with wanton abandonment, and she flowed with the grace and fluidity of a river, caring not for pain or exhaustion. In that eternal moment, there were no sad memories, no hateful words, only the warmth and joy of friends and family, both living and dead, remembered and forgotten.

When darkness finally descended on Næmyris, the bonfires were lit, and Hæra started to sing the Lament of the Sun God, marking the last phase of the Festival. Hæra’s song reached everyone and resonated deeply with Rowan who chose to dance alone, though only in a sense. In truth, she was dancing with the memory of Rina and their unspoken and renewed bond.

As Rowan danced, the Lament of the Sun God evolved into a new melody with a profound emotional complexity and a deep sadness layered into the song. To most, it was merely a beautiful song; to Rowan, it was a lament for her lost sister. As her mother sang the final song of the night, Rowan danced with glistening tears that seemed almost like crystals in the light of the fading bonfires.

An eternity passed and the lament came to a close. The bonfires were little more than embers, and everyone had stopped dancing. After a night full of music, it was eerily sombre. The townsfolk that still remained started to slowly drift off back home.

Rowan, however, was dead on her feet, completely exhausted from the night’s festivities. She tried to walk towards her family only for her legs to fail her. Tyris caught her just in time and brought her into his arms.

There, she fell asleep as he carried her home with the rest of the family in tow.