Silver tears of the Moon

10 years later...

A/N: Hello Readers. Let me just say that I am so so so so so...(100 so's later) so absolutely sorry that this chapter is late. I went on that getaway and since coming back, school has been a...I won't say the word. It starts with a 'b', use your imagenation; and I've been lazy on Friday. Please forgive me.

Anyway, before you start, I strongly recommend that you have tissues with you. Trust me, you'll need them. I also recommend listening to the song above. Yes, I will be using a lot of instrumental music for this book.

Enjoy.

[Two Steps from Hell: Children from the War]

Yerathiel kneeled by her parents' bed clutching her dying foster father's hand. Her eyes, one blue-green and the other completely silver, swam with silver tears which dampened the woollen blanket as they fell. Her foster mother kneeled on the other side of the bed. She cried golden tears as hot as fire. The figure on the bed was so frail and skeletal that he hardly took any space on the bed. A cough suddenly racked through his body. The two women held him as his body bucked and shook.

When the pain subsided, Faraan looked up at his wife and nodded his head slowly. He then turned to Yerathiel.

"Yerathiel," he croaked, "My time in this world is nearly over. Soon I will enter the Shadow Realm." Yerathiel took a shaky breath. She listened to every word, knowing that this was the last time that she will hear his voice again.

"You have grown into a beautiful young woman," Faraan continued, placing a scaled hand on the side of her face, "I'm sorry that I won't see you get married and start a family of your own." Yerathiel covered his hand with her own and leaned into it for comfort. Her tears fell more swiftly, turning into small rivulets.

His eyes fluttered and he fought to keep them open. "Remember, death is not the end. You will always have your memories of me." He turned and gazed sadly at Nagia and said: "I know we made an agreement, but please, give it to her." His eyes closed; he breathed out one final breath and became still. Nagia and Yerathiel broke down into heart-rending sobs. Their tears - hot gold and cool silver - sizzled as they met. Eventually Nagia wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "Come Yerathiel," she said shakily, turning to the young elf beside her, "We must bury him".

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Nagia enlisted the help of Wynne. Wynne was a wyvern - the common, fire-breathing kind. She placed Faraan's body carefully onto the wyvern's back and prepared for the short journey up into Souls Chamber, the nearest dragon burial ground. All the dragons and their kin - the drakes, wyverns and drakonians - were buried there. Through all this, Yerathiel sat silently in her room, gazing outside her window with a hollow expression on her face. Her eyes stared blankly at the equipment that Faraan had used to grow their own small vegetable garden. She only stirred when Nagia told her that it was time to go. She slowly got up and followed her foster mother outside.

It took them a day to reach the base of the dormant volcano. Yerathiel hesitated and looked at the doorway with red, puffy eyes. The entrance reached far above her head, wide as well as high enough to allow a full-grown dragon to enter. There were small carvings within the doorframe. Scenes from centuries past displaying terrible wars and great acts of kindness from the dragons. But most of all, they showed peace and rest. Once inside the doorway, darkness enveloped Yerathiel. The corridor itself rose higher above the doorway. Many arches criss-crossed overhead, shining with the lustre of polished hard obsidian. Torches blazed every few metres down a long corridor but were not fierce enough to penetrate the darkness. She lifted her right hand - a soft glow emanating from it - to her face and traced a night vision rune beneath her right eye with a long slender finger. The rune glowed a soft silver. Instantly the shadows were dispelled and she could see. Wynne and Nagia were farther down the corridor. Wynne looked quite dwarfed beneath the arches above. Yerathiel numbly trailed behind the two dragon-kin.

The air around them slowly grew warmer. The smell of sulphur grew stronger, so strong that Yerathiel's eyes began to water, adding to her tears. She hurriedly wiped her eyes. The corridor had begun to widen and Yerathiel felt like she was standing inside a blacksmith's forge. Sulphuric steam filled the corridor and a dim crimson glow shone at its end. The light steadily brightened as they approached. Finally the corridor opened into a vast cavern. The cavern was shaped like a bowl with a lake of molten lava in the middle. Tiers and stairs led down to the lake, designed similarly to the humans' arenas she had read about who lived in far off lands. Set deep into the rock walls and tiers were large alcoves, hundreds of them. Nagia dropped back behind Wynne. Yerathiel saw that her foster mother's cheeks were wet with tears. She gently put her hand on Nagia's shoulder and smiled reassuringly. Nagia turned her head and forced a weak smile.

The small group made their way down the steps towards the burning lake. Yellow smoke rose from its surface. A figure rose up behind the smoke; its head reached nearly to the cavern roof. Only when Yerathiel saw its wings stretch to either side of it did she know what it was. The dragon pushed its head through the smoke. Its yellow slit-pupiled eyes slid over the party with a calculating look, reflecting the flames of the lake beneath it. Its scales were ash-grey but glowed a pleasant cherry red. "Dor su ji (Greetings mourners)." The dragon's voice was deep and gravely. Its voice echoed through the cavern. "You speak to Khalasar, born during the Age of Falling Stars, Burial Guardian of Souls Chamber."

Wynne bowed her head in respect, keeping silent.

"Nagia," called the drakonian, also bowing her head and opening up her wings from behind her, "born during Roland's Reign, speaks to you; along with my elven daughter Yerathiel. We have come to bury my husband." Yerathielstared numbly at her boots, not hearing anything that was said as Khalasar noddedat Nagia. He drew his head back through the sulphurous smoke; his silhouette blurred as he shifted his body. The ground shook slightly, small pebbles rattled down the steps around the cavern as the ancient dragon dragged himself around the lava. He stopped beside them. He gently plucked Faraan's body from Wynne's back and lowered him into the lava. It hissed and spat out small globules of magma. Nagia and Yerathiel danced backwards to avoid the scorching rocks. Khalasar dipped his claws into the lava and drew out the body. Yerathiel felt tears pricking her eyes. Faraan's skin had hardened into charcoal, his features plainly outlined. Nagia could hold it no longer; hot tears ran down her cheeks in a steady flow as the lava fell back into the pool.

Khalasar turned towards her and asked, "When was he born?"

"He was born in the beginning of Roland's Reign," she choked out. Her tears hissed and turned to vapour as they landed on the volcanic surface of the chamber. Khalasar dragged himself over to one of the hundreds of large alcoves surrounding the lava pit. Yerathiel and Nagia followed him. Wynne stayed behind at the pit, silent, her head remaining bowed. Khalasar stretched out his left foreleg and placed Faraan's body in an alcove close to the middle of the rows. He drew his leg back and dragged himself over to the lake, giving the two women space to mourn in peace.

They lifted Faraan's body from the floor and carried it deeper into the alcove until they found a smaller,empty alcove where they placed his body. Then they just kneeled there in silence, tears running down their faces and Nagia stroking his immortalised, rock features.

After a long while, they were ready to leave. "Goodbye Papa," Yerathiel whispered and kissed his forehead. Then she followed Nagia back to the cavern and out of the volcano to head home.

A/N: *Blows nose and sniffs* "Oh Faraan, I'm so sorry!" At least he had a happy life and family. Again, I'm so sorry to you if you grew attached to him.

Please comment any suggestions so that I can improve my writing or strengthen the emotion in this chapter. Constructive criticism really does help.