The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (Season 2+)

Brother and Sister

Maudra Argot had been in a fugue state since the previous night. The gelflings looking after her had been at her side all that time. The old Maudra was seated in a bed in the Stonewood palace. She was blankly staring at the ceiling, her wide eyes blindly looking through her daze. According to her aides, she had performed a ritual in a frenzied panic and froze in terror from what she saw. She was conscious enough to be hand fed soups, but there was nothing going on behind her eyes.

Rian looked to the floor where she had performed the magic. Everything had been swept up and cleaned, but there was a symbol that had been seared into the wooden floor. The black, charcoal was still smoking when the guards came in to see the commotion and was still warm to the touch. four triangles stacked in a pyramid to make one larger triangle. The inner triangle also had this same shape, and was enclosed by a circle. This pattern repeated three times, ending with a circle in the dead center, two lines crossing through it, seemingly getting longer and longer. Slowly. They looked a little longer than last night.

"Her condition has not improved," the Spriton gelfling said. "Niether has it gotten worse. She's just...stuck. In some sort of shock limbo."

"Does the symbol on the ground have anything to do with it?" Rian asked.

"Perhaps," she answered. "But no one here knows exactly what it means. All the Sifa have left."

"Let me know if her condition changes in any way," he said, before turning to leave.

"Yes sir," she said.

Rian walked through the near empty Stonewood Palace. The place had been full and bustling when the seven clans were all here before. But now there was a great less since the majority had left. He ran his hand along the smooth wood of the massive Hearth Tree that had been carved out to make the palace. So much work. The chopping, the chiseling, the smoothing, and the sanding. And the plant had still survived. Adjusting to the new curvatures and pathways, healing over to make way for them. All Hearth Trees did. This one being the oldest. They didn't really know how long they lived. All they knew was this had been the first, all others followed, and not one had died yet.

"Ow!" Rian exclaimed. He pulled his hand away as a sharp, acute pain dug into his skin. He looked closely and saw a single needle of wood stuck into his finger. He pulled it out with his teeth and spit it to the floor. He looked at the wall closely and saw a small deterioration in the wooden surface where he had gotten the splinter. No one had ever gotten a splinter before in a Hearth Tree. compared to everything else, he just added it to the list of new things in the world.

He continued walking. That splinter had actually hurt. It didn't draw blood, but it was annoying. He shook out his hand and sucked on the wound, making sure all of the wood was out. He looked up and stopped, facing into the general's quarters. He forgot about the pain in his finger and stepped into the room. He walked until he stood perfectly center in the room. Looking around he saw memories of his childhood. His family sat at the table eating. His father preparing for the day while holding off Rian's attempts to keep him from leaving. He and his father returning from a day of hunting. When the news came in that Rian had been accepted to the castle guard. When he left to live at the castle, his mom was proud yet worried.

He took the DualGlaive off his hip and sat down on his childhood bed with a heavy head. He sighed and swallowed a small lump that had been forming in his throat. He unsheathed the sword and held it up so he could look at it with the clean, reflective, almost mirror-like metal of the blade. He saw his reflection and hoped it would have been his father. It wasn't him. He looked across the room to a picture of his father on his mother's night table.

"I don't know if I can do this," Rian said. "I'm not the leader you were."

The picture remained silent.