Clash of Fates
Gazing up at the stars above did nothing for Ashnir, their soul and those of their comrades, the Sontvi, were all they could think about as the cheering in the distance made poor attempts to engulf all of their senses. They had been losing too much sleep of late – all they wished was that they could simply dream up the vivid visions for a better world as they once had. Clarity is all they sought now, but all they would receive instead were brief nightmares of what hid within the dark recesses of their mind. A hole in their heart keeps them from enjoying much that others could so readily, and what should have been the best day of their life became a time of sorrow, one that they feel may last until the end of their days.
Surviving for so long, Rahsuo was declared a maniac by the Banntor, a fool by their people, and considered a ghost to once close friends. Now hailed a hero of war, a war that they do not even remember no matter how hard they try, all that remains important is that they are safe and sound for the time being. They have never felt this out of place, but they must keep up the act for as long as they can. This is their haven, whether they like it or not, at least until the Torram returns. Drinking with those they instinctively consider their enemy, what could have happened that would cause this?
Partying as the alcohol finally kicked in, dancing with unfamiliar faces. No, these were faces they saw on the other side. Jemdin did not belong here, but their inhibitions were down and who can really trust what they see under the effects of such potent substances? There’s no time or need for second guessing when you’ve become one with the Caljani. Perhaps this is where they always belonged, they were unsure, but felt peace at last for the first time in their life. They thought they saw a familiar face in the crowd, eyes locked on one another’s, but surely it was just a trick of the light, or perhaps a memory of their past?
There was nothing left. Where Falron awoke was oddly familiar, but in a state they did not recognise. Unsure of they long they were unconscious, they wandered for what felt like hours into the unknown landscape. Their glory days with the Denhlar long behind them, that is all they could cling onto as the ruins continued for as far as they could walk and see. Love never mattered to them, nor did hate, but they just wanted to feel something other than the uneasiness of being so out of place. This would be the last place they’d choose to be lost in, with no sign of life, and no sign of hope. With the skies falling down, they were truly broken.
Six feet underground, Nelrel awoke to the cries and screams of children. Whether by what they believed would be sibyl shock or arkanite awe, so many were buried with haste without their families. But why now, why here? Few even remember when this was last needed. They were a child themselves the last time the storms came. Where is Volans — no, wait – Tolans? Lovans? That’s their name! Surely, they must be here too? They would never part one another. They would rise together, and fall together. They had been through so much, too much. Eternities would have to pass before they could be torn apart by anyone.