Echoes Of War

4

Stepping into the sanctuary, a subtle scent of aged parchment and ancient wisdom enveloped me. The air was neither dark nor overwhelmingly bright; it held a tranquil equilibrium that seemed to echo the measured wisdom of the elders.
As I inhaled the distinctive fragrance, memories of my first time in this sacred space flooded my mind. It was a memory wrapped in warmth and the comforting embrace of my older brother. I recalled his promise, made in the shadowed corners of this very sanctuary, that he would be the one to guide me through these hallowed halls for my first meeting with the elders.

The sanctuary, though unchanged in essence, bore witness to the passage of time. The subdued lighting, a blend of natural and ceremonial glow, cast an ethereal ambiance on the ancient walls. The reverence for the wisdom held within these sacred confines seemed to seep from every corner.

As my mind lingered on the memory of my brother's comforting words, the elders, guardians of the sanctuary's knowledge, approached. Their expressions, etched with the marks of time, held a quiet acknowledgment of my presence. The room resonated with the weight of their collective wisdom.

In the dim-lit embrace of the sanctuary, reluctantly, I approached the council of elders, their words delivered in an ancient tongue that wove through the air like cryptic echoes. "Unbind the gates, my Queen," they whispered in a language of riddles, "for within the shared wisdom of many, answers shall find their way."

"That's not happening." I simply stated. "It is wise to do so my Queen. For it-"

"Repeating it won't change my answer." "Why could you seek the Elders advice and not take it child?"  "Because as it seems the Elders are quiet bit crazy and not thinking straight."  For the peace of my tribe I didn't state that, but instead "Because if you have not forgotten those Wolfkin are Valorn, from the north tribe. Whom carry the healing power and wolf spirits."

It doesn't take much for them all to turn their attention to my scar on the left side of my face. A gift from Admiral Arnoux and his wolf spirit.

"Good things will come from them." "Good things? Good thing my ass." "Enough-"

Their counsel, though sagacious, was veiled in the intricate dance of their native language. Frustration fueled my retort, as I wove their own dialect into a narrative of shared pain. I compelled them to relive the shadows of the day the Admiral Arnoux's malice invaded my home, each word a stitch in the fabric of my heart's anguish.

With each word, I made them feel the searing pain of helplessness as my little brother slipped away. I compelled them to taste the bitterness of unfulfilled promises, the echoes of my vow to shield those I loved from harm. The room resonated with their anguish, my Sythr's power weaving a tapestry of shared suffering.

Their tearful eyes mirrored the depth of my own heartache. The torrent of emotions surged until a gentle touch snapped me out of the vengeful trance. My best friend, a Sythra studying to be an elder, pressed her hand against mine, breaking the connection.

As reality crashed back, I noticed the blood on my nose and ears. Panic set in as I retreated, stumbling away from the elders. In my chamber, my best friend tended to the wounds, soothing the physical toll of my unleashed powers. She helped me cleanse the remnants of my fury, a silent support amid the tumult that raged within.

"How can you do it?" "Do what?"
"The Elders, I can't seem to suppress my emotions anymore.....it's like I'm a time bomb waiting to explode." It wasn't like me to lose control, it wasn't unethical of me to do so.

I was scared of my powers, how can a single person have the powers of thousands without exploding? How did my Mother do it?

"I think that Master is..... an asshole as people from Thundar would say, for the way and pain she put you through during those training time." I didn't want Alma to feel sorry for me.

"I asked for it all." "You were merely a child...." she tries to place her hands on my cheeks which makes me pull away from her.
I was never well with physical contact.
"You have the wolf spirit's mark, and can talk to the dead. Why not talk to your mom? Your brothers? Maybe they'll have an answer to how they dealt with all the stress?"

I shook my head, "Why not?"
"I don't want to." Even though Alma was someone I considered as a friend, I couldn't tell her the truth.

There are certain things that even those that I call friends don't know about me, and I intend to keep it that way.