When we fell from Earth

Forever fallen

The Ice shall walk down the dark path,

the sleeping monster shall unleash its wrath.

-Third Stanza in the RulersOFall prophecy of the return

Belimerando sat on his wooden chair and read intently. His house, similar to the rest of his people, was a two-story house with a dome and not a flat ceiling. He was currently sitting in the kitchen, and beyond it, was the living room that spanned most of the first floor, and beyond it, was the Teaching Room: A small room he designed for his daughter so he could teach her things her mother didn't want her to be taught.

Belimerando took a deep breath and grinned, the smell of the Rashen soup's spices always made Belimerando remember his life as a child. When he would return from school, to find his mother preparing him the soup. She would ask him about his day, and he usually wouldn't reply because his nose would be buried in his book, not caring about anything else but the novel between his hands.

Some things never change, he thought. For he was sitting in a kitchen, reading a book, while his wife was making him the Rashen soup. He looked around, making sure his wife, Barona, wasn't in sight. He pushed his chair off the table and made his way across the kitchen to the stove. The kitchen's design wasn't his, of course. He left that for Barona to design. The walls of the kitchen were wooden, of course, like the rest of the house. The floor had a carpet, however, depicting the RulersOFall, and above it, the long table that Belimerando was sitting on.

On both sides of the kitchen, two counters were built: The one on the right had the stove, the sink, and a small, ceramic table for cutting vegetables and fruits, and then a smaller table where his new coffee machine laid. On the other side, the huge fridge, courtesy to their powers and their lands, was built-in the wall. The counter next to it, was his favorite part of the kitchen: The spice counter. There, he and his wife would cut down the plants they harvest or buy and turn them into powder for spices; it was also the counter Barona used to make dough for cakes or any kind of her amazing pastries. Above said counter, the spice counter, there was a huge cupboard divided into two: A half for plates, utensils, and the other half for cups and mugs.

Belimerando took the lid off the pot, and grinned. The blue colored soup smelled of rosemary and thyme, his favorite mixture. He could even see the lamb meat in it. Belimerando put the lid back on and tiptoed to the other side, discretely opening the door to the cupboard and took a spoon.

For a warrior of his age, Belimerando was stealthy. Once, in his days fighting the Elentrances off the land of Batreya, he was called the Ice-Spike. When his enemies saw him on the battlefield, they trembled. When his allies knew that the Ice-Spike is fighting with them, they rejoiced, for they knew they were winning. He tiptoed back to the spot and raised the lid again. He could hear the soup calling for him to take a sip.

"Daddy!" Belimerando, with simplicity, pocketed the spoon and turned. His daughter, Barethia, ran to him, jumping in his arms. For a girl her size and age, she was strong. Her jumps, the way her hands moved when she held Belimerando's sword. Belimerando could tell that this girl was born to be a warrior. Barona, however, disagreed.

"You're home early!" Belimerando said, kissing the top of Bartheia's head as he took her to the living room. "I thought you had classroom cleaning duty today!"

Barethia laughed and said, "No, silly, it was yesterday! Today is Tsrdsh!" and Belimerando understood her excitement. Today was the Teaching Room day, which meant he and her had to be stealthy for Barona not to notice. He sank down on the lush couch, Barethia on his lap, as he put his legs on the small wooden table in the middle of the living room. Barethia sat next to him, and tried to copycat Belimerando, but she was too short to do so, and besides, if Barona saw Barethia trying to copycat Belimerando in this position with her dress, Barona would strangle Belimerando, and he didn't want that.

Barethia, when she discovered that she couldn't do as her father, folded her legs under her and looked up at him. "Daddy! Where is the sword! You promised I—" Belimerando put her hand on her mouth as he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. "If your mother heard you saying them, you and I will be impaled with this sword, sweetie. We will wait till she sleeps and we train. Okay?"

Barethia giggled and nodded. Barona came down, and narrowed her eyes at them. "What are you two planning?"

Barona's long dark brown hair was done in a messy bun. Her yellow eyes gleamed with curiosity as she looked from Barethia to Belimerando. She was tall, almost as tall as Belimerando himself, and she wore the blue dress he made for her, despite her protests that it wasn't good. Belimerando carried Barethia and walked to Barona, grinning, "Well, she and I were planning what we will be doing for today's lesson, right?"

"Right!" Barethia giggled. She looked every inch like her mother: The sharp face, the innocent, always curious eyes. But Barethia's hair was white; as long as her mother's, yes. But as white as her father's. Belimerando, with reluctance, put Barethia down. He wanted to be holding his daughter all the time; he wanted to always be with her. But when Barona announced it was time for lunch, Belimerando remembered that he needed to shave and excused himself. Barona objected, however, claiming that it wasn't the time for that, but he had already left anyway.

Staring at his reflection in the bathroom, Belimerando wondered to why Barona had ever married him. He was already forty-immortal cycles when the Elentrance of Ice decided to leave this part of the lands alone and he had returned home. Barona was only thirty-five-immortal cycles, when she caught his eyes. Barona, despite her protests, had the soul of a warrior. The first time he met her, he had accidently taken her place in a line for the bakery. She shouted at him, hitting him with her bag, and when people explained to her who he was, she hit him even harder. She said, "Since he's the Ice-Spike, he can handle more."

She wasn't afraid of the scars that peppered all of his face. She wasn't afraid of the eye he lost during the war. She looked him in his one eyes, and hit him again. He, till now, didn't understand if what she did was bravery or recklessness, but he fell in love with her anyways.

He looked down at his rough hands and felt bad for Barethia that she had to endure such hands to carry her or pat her. Belimerando sometimes wondered if she was ever afraid of how he looks. But she wouldn't, would she?

He remembers her as a child, always crying whenever Belimerando held her up. One time, Barona was sick and Belimerando stayed up all night, rocking Barethia's crib, and every time the infant opened her eyes to see Belimerando, she would cry.

Belimerando shook his head, there was no need for this—

And then, he heard the screams, they were so far away, but he heard them clearly. Belimerando tossed the shaving blade aside and ran downstairs, he drew his sword from thin air and it crystalized in his hand, a second later, the crystal lattice broke. The sword's hilt was in the shape of a snowflake, and the blade was as long and wide. He looked at it, his reflection mirrored on the clear metal. Barona and Barethia were in the kitchen, their eyes wide. Barona nodded, "The screams, where did it come from?"

Belimerando felt a slight relief at the fact his daughter and wife were okay. He ran a hand through his short, yet think, white hair and said, "I don't know." He was about to dismiss his sword, when the door to his house banged. Belimerando walked there and opened it.

Barawan, one of the lanky guards, stood there, his posture stiff. "Sir, figures were spotted falling from the sky just outside the town, sir. What should we do?"

"We inspect the scene, of course." Belimerando said. "Go and get a small team ready, I will change into armor."

Barawan nodded and left. And Belimerando changed into his armor. An armor he hadn't worn for five years.