"What?"
The word caught in his throat.
Dead? By what means?
Silence.
The 'Thill coughed, still sickly as he'd been for the last year.
---
The room, warm and vibrant despite the desolate landscape of the Barrowlands, drifted from sight. Instead he was in Serheim once more, brumal as the land was, scarred and burned, his evil marred across flesh for all to see. The blizzard churned on and on above and around, only below was safe. Down the lift he'd descended, back when he still wore his herald armor, back when his skin was still burned, and back when he still held questionable ties.
Forward and to the left, the caves had curved, a small opening wherein laid Elias, shackled and chained. Old, weathered, but his cousin by name if not blood, by family and bond. Light blue eyes had stared down, casting silent judgement on the sleeping man, a mixture of emotions swirled within his chest. Cousin. The thought echoed as ferine strain stirred. His lips thinned if only briefly, an audible swallow as he glanced left and right, tilted his head to listen for anything above the howling of ever wrothful winds.
The roads of the Vale.
Karin'ayla, I need to tell you something. It's important, you're in danger. . .
Contempt, a near sneer as they stopped alongside each other.
I have better things to do and more trustworthy people to meet, cousin.
The thundering of hooves as the paladin rode away.
I won't leave you here. The words were unspoken, the man slumbered deeply. Quickly, casually, he slipped from the barren ice lands of Serheim, back to the warmth of civilization. Two letters were sent, one meeting arranged. He will be free by one hand or the other.
---
Dead.
His cousin was dead.
Alone, in silence, Nehtamo grieved.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Elsewhere, a paladin lights a candle.
The Chancery turned Sunwell turned ruins was still her home.
The toy was made of velveteen and he was quite splendid.
What is real, he asked?
Real is when someone loves you.
Left palm, scarred as it was, clutched at her chest.
And loved you were, little nephew.
Tears fell and candlelight flickered.
Never, however, did she doubt
He was a paladin who ever wavered.