The return of the prodigal son

Good night, sweet prince

"You can't force the heart to choose wisely. It makes decisions on its own."

~ Trudi Canavan, Priestess in White

[background music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9zZfBBp-j6I ]

If you could ever find encouraging words to say before having to annihilate one of your close comrades dearest to you, none of your companions could find them now. Perhaps they never existed, at least that was the impression Vasco and Aphra had at that moment, looking at young De Sardet, who was marching around beating his own thoughts, unsuccessfully trying not to let it be known how much the recent events related to his dear cousin had affected him and led to great sadness. Kurt and Siora stayed behind them in silence as well, however, realizing exactly what he was feeling. It was Kurt who had known young De Sardet the longest of all. He had become a fencing teacher for both him and Constantine many years ago, had been by their side as they grew up, knew what kind of relationship they had and that the boy, if they managed to survive the damn day, would need a lot of time to come to terms with such a great loss. For this reason, Kurt felt that everything important had already been said, and further words were unnecessary. He tried to focus his thoughts around the upcoming fight, to replay in his head all the possible combinations of punches, parries and dodges that he would be able to use. Siora, on the other hand, looked at him with great pain. Not knowing why, like Kurt, she noticed most how the young legate was fighting a battle with himself somewhere deep inside. Maybe because of how much they understood each other, she didn't want to let the thought of how her carants must be feeling at the moment enter her head and heart. To think that just recently, he was the one who had been her greatest support after the death of her Mátir, and that perhaps soon, if they managed to survive, she would have to do the same and be a rock for him. The very thought of this made her want to say many, many words to him, which, not knowing why, never came out of her mouth. Petrusa walked at the head before the rest of the team. As the eldest, he felt a kind of responsibility, for the fate of these young people who still had so much life ahead of them. To think that after all that had happened to his beloved Arelwin, the same fate was to befall her blood, her only son. No, no. Petrusa could not allow himself these thoughts. He decided to focus on prayer and entrust their fate to the Enlightened One.

All of them did not know that their mere presence meant more to de Sardet than the hundreds of words spoken by all the sages of the world. He was extremely grateful to them for that. Be that as it may, none of them knew whether, after today, they would ever again see the sight of the rising sun or hear the laughter of those closest to them. The thought was awful, able to sting inside and cut off in tiny pieces the will to fight. However, all six of them knew that this was their only chance to save the world they knew from perdition. They chased away the bad thoughts by recalling what they had experienced together over the past few months and how unexpectedly, despite their diversity and surroundings, they had grown closer. Their earlier, and perhaps final, conversation together before leaving the Dogred camp for battle confirmed how much. Each of them stood by De Sardet's side, they knew they could count on each other and fight by their side, despite their different ties they were a team, their carants.

Each step toward the inevitable seemed to take them an eternity. Finally, they reached Anemhaid. All around them were walls of rocks between which ran a path leading to the shrine. The smell of battle and death was in the air. Vasco was the first to break the silence, noticing that the entrance to the shrine had been forced. They knew what this meant - the battle had already begun, Constantin had managed to break through. Wasting no time, they moved forward as quickly as possible. Running along the road among the dark rocks on their left, they passed water, although it was hard to see anything more through the smoke rising everywhere. They had the feeling as if they were running through alleys hollowed out by a volcano. Who knows, maybe that's what it was like. After a while they ran through a passage over a stream, and that's when Petrus saw it first. On the ground in front of them lay the bodies of people from the Bridge Alliance. They all stopped as if on a signal, Aphra swallowed her saliva loudly. Vasco moved to the first body, lying in a pool of blood, and then crouched by the second.