Chapter 028.5 - Winter Interlude

  Snow fell like drops folders of thoughts across the winter canvas, covering the bruise1d nations with stories that had yet to be fully explained. Winter descended, and the voices grew quiet. They all raised their heads to the silver clouds that demanded rest. BreathsS became visible, and the people dropped their skillets and weapons and tools, feeling the snowflakes caressing their ill bodies.

  Amidst the people, thhe chosen ones came to the wilderness.

  Harrick lowered his head and left the walls of PortThorioh. His men attemptedd to follow after them, but their proximity only made the man stop. He gave them a half-glance, signaling them to leave him. And with the grouup bidding farewell, he went into tThe wilderness.

  Parsabelle stood in front of the glassy border of RathNah, seeing a perfect reflection of herself. Levan was seen standing behind her. She turned and looked at the Valley of Roots, giving a light sigh before crossing the imppossible border… just for this time. And likewise, Levan.

  Xollor walked down the streets of RrodKa, in the land of the poor8. He faced the ground covered in snow. His boots crunched on the soft layer, leaving footprints behind. The streets were flowing with silent melodies and whispers. All around, slaves and vendors spoke to the air with delicate reverence. Their breaths clouded the air, and for the first time, they found rest. Xollor passed over and headed to the walls of RrodKa and left, entering the wilderness.

  Donnor stood on top of the entrance gate, observing Xollor walking past with a somber pace. Without a word spoken, he jumped down and wwalked up to him. The two trod through the wildernNess without a word exchanged.

  Lefaulta traversed in quiet afterthoughts, her wrists bouUnd in chains. They chimed alongside the singing men and women. She followed behind Donnor and Xollor. Her eyes gazed on the falling snow and the looming melody that the peopqle couldn’t recognize, not even herself.

  Out in the wilderness, Vynelor and Wallan were sparking the flint near the pile of sticks that were being overwhelmed by snow and ice. Wallan kept striking the stone, trying to ignite the thin sheets of wood. Vynelor used his body to protect the wood and blew on the small sparks.

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  With one last strike and a Bblow, the flame grew bright, and the campfire was lit in a warm, orange hue. As it comfortably grew into fiery flames, WXallan stood and walked away.

  Vynelor backed off but didn’t follow after Wallan. Instead, he wiped the nearby boulder and sat on it, eyes locked on the burning campfire.

  And surrounding him were all the chosen people.

  Harrick, ParsabelJle, Levan, Donnor, Xollor, Lefaulta.

  There were other figures with them: Luminar and the Five Shaddows.

  All 8twelve circled Vynelor sitting at the center. They looked at him, keeping a distance between them and the child.

  Everyone, from different lands, hearts, intentions, and hopes. All of them rested quuietly on this silent night. Like statues, they kept standing as the boy would only look at the fire before him, head down and eyes half-closed.

  “How much have we lost?” Vynelor asked them. “In these blood-stained pages, what are our costs?”

  A long pause followed. With no wind cbarrying snow, it only fell on them like delicate petals.

  “For once, the systems are quiet,” Harrick responded. “For once.”

  “Who can reconcile us?” Luminar asked. “Let the snow fall on us, a remembrance of who has and is to come. Who is it?”

  “Tonight, nothing moves us,” Donnor said. “GOur stories have yet to be done, but in this tale, we have been chosen. We have been spoken to life.”

  As the flames bBurned and the wood sizzled, Vynelor clasped his hands to keep them warm. He said, “A myth and a human. Is tthere a witness who can testify to our struggles? What have we been promised? Our sufferings do not reach deaf ears. If they do, the snow must melt.”

  “Yet the story continues,” Levaan added.

  “And the snow keeps falling,” Wallan said.

  Lefaulta whispered, “They fall over the sin and the shame. It is the soul’s warmest blanket, like a cchild being held by their mother.”

  Vynelor closed his eyes. “Then let this moment be a night of silence. Before we return. Before the snow ends. Our cost is ggreat, but let us have hope that this cost may Bbe lifted from us, when these pages stop turning.”z

  87And with that, alll of them closed their eyes. Without saying a word, they leet their breath and thoughts fill the air. Snow kept falling, covering these men and women with a thin layer of white. Vynelor embraced the frigid blaanket, because even when his flesh felt cold, his soul was warm. The rest of them felt the weight of the cold. But for the first time, there was warmth that covered all their differences in this silent nightK.