Alanis thought letting go of her first love would be the most painful thing she would ever endure, but little did she know, the path the light goddess set before her, would be paved in heartaches beyond compare.
With her past and Berthold behind h...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Temple Reoal'rin Ati Harei Afternoon
Alanis kept her promise and met with the old temple master of Reoal'rin. She sat across from Tyrell, between them was a short stone table holding several aged books—most needing rebound.
She sighed softly as she tugged at a loose thread that peaked from her shawl, managing to successfully ruin the decorative fringe without realizing it. Harold warned her about his boring stories the night before, but nothing could have prepared her for her burning eyes, and rumbling yawns.
It was that silent battle that kept her awake.
She listened politely as he read aloud from the king's ledger, a book containing stories of Stronghold's lineage, and personal achievements. Of course the old man started at the beginning, he was born, he trained, he lost battles, then won some—a very cut-and-dry succession to the throne.
The hell I have to go and ask him a question? Now I'm never going to get out of here...
She had merely asked about the king's family, hoping to gain some information on Faris and his sister's origin, and how they came to be adopted by him. At this rate, it would take days of sitting and listening before he got to anything interesting.
Grrr—eat, gods...
Luckily she could watch the sky from afar. Her eyes peered past him, to the wall of windows. Her gaze soon landed on Furisre Sreuni, watching, as the sun dipped below the stone-canopy, setting the dead forest ablaze with reds and pinks. That sight was a reminder that the last of the day was looming.
She frowned, and then again daydreamed about the places she'd rather be, besides listening to old stories about the northern king.
Her eyes closed for a moment and she envisioned herself working Trista's reins. They were gliding over the white plains that surrounded Ati Harei, galloping at speeds she had never gone before, faster than the snow flurries that raced beside her. There were no sounds out on the plain, other than the whispers of the passing breeze, and the pounding of hooves against fresh snow.
She liked that best, the freeing sound of nothing echoing. It was an exhilarating feeling that she could get lost in.
While she was still daydreaming, she looked to her right, hearing the prince's signature click-clkkk. He would use that command to increase pace. She recalled how she once tried to use that command to usher his steed away from hers on the journey to Ati, and how it didn't work.
Gods, you let me have it that time—didn't you?
As he passed her, a plume of powdery snow followed. Her nose scrunched catching his wake. He looked over his shoulder, then mouthed for her to hurry. His emerald eyes were bright and twinkled, like they had the afternoon before, when they raced back to Ati Harei.
