Shadow of Mirkwood

Echoes of Farawell

One can't exactly savor vengeance when one is dead

       "Good boy," Lytharial murmured to Onyx as she dismounted, a show of gratitude for their unspoken connection. 

The black mist trail that had guided her thus far dissipated, leaving her in the cold embrace of the snowy landscape.

Before she stretched a quaint scene—a few horses, wooden houses standing sentinel against the winter chill, and a small fire that flickered in the stillness. The snow beneath her boots crunched with each step, a gentle symphony of winter's touch. Despite the biting cold, excitement surged within Lytharial like a vibrant flame. The medallion, clutched in her hands, bore a poignant image of her sister, a tangible connection to a past she thought was lost.

In her eagerness to reunite with her sister, Lytharial paid little heed to the possibility of a trap. This couldn't be a trap. The coldness of the snow underfoot went unnoticed, drowned out by the warmth that radiated from the anticipation of a long-lost connection being restored. The medallion, a symbol of hope and possibility, seemed to glow in her hands.

Glancing around, Lytharial saw no immediate signs of anyone present. The peaceful tableau before her suggested nothing amiss. Satisfied, she took a few purposeful steps toward the small fire, drawn by both the warmth it promised and the prospect of answers that awaited in the glow of its flickering light.

The snow whispered beneath her boots, a serenade to the reunion that awaited her. With every step, Lytharial approached the fire, her heart pounding in rhythm with the crackling flames. The winter air held the promise of secrets, and she stood at the precipice of discovery, eager to uncover the mysteries that lay hidden within the dancing shadows and the glow of family ties rekindled.

The soft glow emanating from the houses flickered through the cold air, a beacon of warmth in the snowy landscape. The crackling of a fire on the wooden floor echoed as an audible embrace, promising tales of comfort and kinship. Lytharial's anticipation heightened as the door of one house swung open wide, revealing the silhouette of a figure emerging into the wintry night.

As the figure drew closer, it became clear—this was the reunion Lytharial had yearned for. Her sister burst out of the door and sprinted towards Lytharial with unbridled joy. 

The time seemed to stop as Lytharial tried to process what was going on. 

      "Lytharial!" her sister exclaimed, the name a melody on her lips as she reached out, embracing her long-lost sibling with a fervor that echoed the depth of their separation.

     "Thalassa!" Lytharial responded, time flowing at a normal speed again, her voice a mixture of relief and emotion. A single tear traced a path down Lytharial's face, a silent testament to the overwhelming tide of emotions that surged within her.

The sisters stood locked in a tight embrace, the cold winds of Mirkwood forgotten in the warmth of their reunion. Thalassa, overcome with emotion, pulled back slightly to gaze into Lytharial's eyes. 

      "I thought I had lost you forever," Thalassa admitted, her voice catching with a mixture of joy and relief.

Lytharial brushed a strand of hair from Thalassa's face, a tender smile playing on her lips. 

      "I thought the same. But here we are, together again," she replied, savoring the moment that seemed suspended in time.

Thalassa's eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she held Lytharial's hands. 

     "You found me," she whispered, a quiet acknowledgment of the effort Lytharial had invested in the quest to reunite their fractured family.

Lytharial nodded, a shared understanding passing between them.