Dárkmëre followed his family as they headed to the rendezvous point. Something was wrong. It wasn't anything to do with the battle that was about to happen. Dárkmëre was worried about his parents. It seemed odd to him that they hadn't come along and then there was the whispered conversation he'd witness between his parents, Jåcóbӱ, and Äɱďėƞ.
"You okay Dárkmëre?"
Dárkmëre smiled down at his sister. She had snuck up without him knowing that she was even close to him. Dárkmëre draped an arm around her shoulder and drew her close. Her arm slid around his waist after she switched the book she was carrying to her other hand. It was a comfortable and familiar feeling.
"I'm fine. I was just mulling over the fact that Mother and Father didn't come with us."
Acacia nodded in understanding. "I have wondered the same thing too. They both have been acting different the past few months. I don't think that Father is well."
Dárkmëre glanced down at his only sister. "You've noticed as well."
"Yes," Äçåçiå said with a nod. "He hasn't been well for a while. I overheard Mother talking to Äɱďėƞ and it seems that whatever ill has befallen Father is one that he's had since he was young."
"I guess we'll wait and see what happens. Maybe they will show up at the battle," Dárkmëre mused with a worried look.
Äçåçiå smiled up at Dárkmëre. "All we can do is hope."
YOU ARE READING
The Ancients A Tale of Survival
FantasyThe war that everyone had been dreading has finally come to pass. It had effectively destroyed the land. Those that had died were lucky. The ones who survived were slowly being transformed by the radiation that blanketed the world. Thousands of...
