Return

[Treshure 5817]

♪♫♬♫♪

 

 

 

The sky was a blood color. It had only gotten that way once the bright warmth of summer had come and passed. Now, the sky drifted it’s sanguine color towards the horizon and it’s sinking, hollow Autumn sun. A hooded figure stood alone in those vast sanded wastes, observing the celestial host as the passing of yet another season. It had become his only way of knowing time’s passage. Many suns set like that in three hundred years.

 

His journey had brought him back from black, blasted wastes, and places unknown before even that. Onward he tread. In truth, the figure didn’t know where he had come from. Such things drift into irrelevance as years turn to centuries. But not all who wander are lost. 

 

No world can be so fruitless for long. The hooded figure emerged from these far lands and encountered society, civilization, and the triumph of Man. But it was not his home. He went forth into the eternal glades of lesser elves. Their wooded air was warm, sweet, and filled with beautiful songs, empty though they were. This sweet respite tempted the figure, and yet alas, it was not his home. 

 

The sun began to rise on the third day when he had found what he was looking for. Silver reflections shone on top of a suncrest hill. Brilliant radiance bore into the sky. Polished marble draped across this city’s great foundations. Spires reached towards the sky, and a great iron gate guarded the secrets of paradise to all but few. An ivory statue held post at this city’s entrance, with one arm outstretched and the other clasped and bound to an emerald staff. The first and progenitor, the sacred, the witch.

 

The figure unbound the leather strands holding his hood together. Tufts of blonde hair fell outwards. Vivid, green eyes shone beneath. A letter, gripped in his palm, was wrapped with the seal of a most ancient house.

“Home.”

 

 

“To the mali’thilln of Haelun’or,

 

Too long and vast have my journeys been. Now they must end. I come to you as an elf from our antique ages. I have not been inside the walls of elcihi since Anthos, in the time of Lin’everal. I write this letter with embarrassment and shame, however nomadic my kin are known to be. The duties of a thilln are to his own kind. 

 

I will accept your scrutiny at the gates. I will undergo a purity trial to attest the soundness of my mind. I will do whatever is necessary to resume serving the Maer’sae Hiylun’ehya, but first I must ask one question.

Is my family still alive?

 

Truly,

Irulan Elibar’acal”

 

[Parion 1130]

 

 

Dear Irulan Elibar’acal,

 

I hope my response reaches you soon, with a message that conveys reassurance and clarity about the status of your Talonnii:

We still prosper in Haelun’or with a large manor (telling of our prestige and presence) and you are welcome home with the Maheral’s clearance, of course. 

 

May be my will independent! But, as son to the late Malaurir Elibar’acal, I hope you are genuine with your perseverance.

 

Yes! I am very eager to meet you, Irulan, if you are as honourable as my haelun described. I anticipate rekindling and hope you bring forth the original credo that’s been blurred by generations of miscommunicated ideas. Maehr’sae Hiylun’ehya, Paronn’mali! Maehr’sae Hiylun’ehya...

 

Aylon Elibar’acal, the malii’mal and protégé of the Maheral and Martyr Azorella Elibar’acal