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Epilogue
Searon sat alone on the porch of the abandoned cabin with pipe in hand. He smoked his tobacco as he wondered where Starlyn could have gone. A week had passed, and he hadn't dared speak of her departure with anybody. Everybody wondered where she disappeared to and why. Searon kept busy making preparations for his army so they could head back into the wilderness. After the last harsh battle, he wondered if he would be able to defeat the draeyks and daerions, especially without the kheshlarn support he hoped to bring with Starlyn.
There appeared to be powerful leaders against him, Zergiel the dark wizard being one, but also rumors flooded of Starlyn's sister, the undead kheshlar, being behind some of the training. He shivered as he thought back to when he met her face to face.
He hadn't seen Anaela since the night they kissed, a truth that haunted him dearly; she made it blatantly obvious that she wanted to avoid him—and her feelings. At least that was what he kept telling himself; he couldn't bear the thought of her not wanting to be with him. The kiss they shared showed him otherwise, or at least it felt so. Every now and then, he would catch glimpses of her, but she would disappear as soon as he spotted her.
Searon knew the kheshlars' hospitality would only go so far, and so when he received a polite message from the king to leave his land, he began packing his things. Starlyn remained the main reason they had been tolerated for so long, and now she was gone. An alliance shattered with the disappearance of one kheshlar.
He sighed as he fingered his weapon, circling around the crested rubies before getting to his feet. Everything was already prepared with the messages he sent to Sh'on and Etherond. He prepared himself to meet with Elsargast and thank the king for the little hospitality shown, and say goodbye. Wind crept over the cabin, and he took one last look. It reminded him of his own home so many years ago, a place that he wanted to live when the war was over, if he survived.
Searon shook his head and stalked off into the city where Elsargast awaited him. Vil'ek stood by the king's side, serene in appearance and hands far from the hilts of his scimitars—a small measure of trust about him. They waited for him by their keep, gold circlet and armor secured upon the king.
Anaela stood near them, confident expression on her face, yet she dared not make eye contact with Searon. She appeared more beautiful than ever with hair hung straight past her shoulders, except for a small piece near her face braded in green beads. A forest-green dress without straps fell only a few inches below her hips. Searon stared in awe for a moment before he shook himself out of it to nod to the king.
"Searon, I am sorry to see you leave, and yet I am content with your departure," Elsargast admitted.
"I appreciate you letting us stay so long."
"Starlyn wouldn't have wanted us to cast you out until you were healed and organized," Elsargast admitted.
"Yes, she is an amazing person."
"I wish she were here; her whereabouts are still unknown. Have you heard from her?"
"No...no, I have not." Searon sighed.
YOU ARE READING
The Crimson Claymore
FantasyThe brave warrior Searon is haunted by the deaths of his wife and children at the hands of the savage reptilian draeyks, who are on a bloodthirsty rampage. He walks the land of Calthoria alone and thirsty for vengeance. He hunts the creatures down o...