Medese un Torill

Amuindei

Torill was in his chamber staring off into nothing as he so often did, pondering many things. When Medese had entered Torill paid no mind to the intrusion, yet only when he had cleared his throat to gain his attention, had Torill shot up and apologized profusely, flustered at the sudden visit.

"Come Torill, there is something I wish to show you," Medese spoke sweetly and Torill's heart fluttered at the sound. He held the door of the chamber open and Torill ran out into the hall as he threw his grey cloak over his bare shoulders, following Medese as he led the way through the temple. Medese's white cloak parted about his figure as he strode hastily through the halls of white. The sun shone on through slender windows and upon his cloak, dancing through the many feathers. Sisters and brothers bowed before him, ignoring the Illiban who followed behind him, as everyone always did. They could not protest his presence, nor could any action of violence be taken against him without facing the judgement of Medese, and so he was treated as if he were but a lost moth fluttering about in the temples light. They made their way through the long corridors that echoed with their every step and came at last to an exit out to the courtyard before the mighty tower. Illomon was under construction and so was allowed access only to the tenders of the gardens. Atop the tower, where before the wings rose high and a great shrine was built about a small garden, there was now a great domed observatory and where the dome met at a flat top there was built a watch tower with an archer set at it's patrol at all times.

Medese had ran forth across the fading green grass with Torill close behind, sneaking into the tower by means of a secret door that only a few knew of. While the gardeners set about their duties, singing gentle melodies for the flowers and trees, Medese and Torill had snuck through the first floor of the tower and after careful navigation had made there way to a southern chamber that opened to a stairwell leading down into the lower levels of Illomon. They followed the winding steps that had been carved deep into the ground and then came to spiral about a great pillar of adamant, the steps becoming wider and slanting downwards. With their fingers interlocked and the spray of the freezing ocean against the slate shores scattered with pebbles and gravel, they came to the beaches and were happy in each others company, caught in the bleak wind. The beaches had been littered with the bronze, yellow, and red leaves of the trees that stood sentinel over the cliff side that stretched off into the distance. The pillars of black stone standing like a vast forest, slanting and bent like heart strings.

"Why have you brought me here?" Torill asked as he followed Medese's steps over the wet stone, frothed with sea foam and strewn with seaweed and driftwood that intermingled with the leaves. Torill was in awe at the harsh beauty that had been carved out by the ocean, the many openings to caverns that are were cut jaggedly into the rising rock face blotched with the same black stone that holds up Styor.

"You shall see," Medese answered offering him a reassuring smile that had settled all the nerves and anxiety, leaving only a joy that lingered as they made there way across the shore, far from the pillars and far from the shelf of grass covered rock where the painted city sat. The beaches were lonely on that day as the cold had kept many indoors and though their cloaks protected them from the chill in the air, it offered little against the spray of the ocean and the shivering breeze that swept across the rock. As they continued their journey, hand in hand, they had found their way to a small opening that led into the rising stone. Styor was in the distance now as they had walked for a little over an hour. The pillars of adamant looked odd against the grey stone, grass breaths, and painted buildings they held up. With grey and fading blue skies, grey shores littered with autumns tones, the black pillars were emphasized and truly stood out. Looking back at Styor, with Illomon rising high against the sky, airships hovering lazily about, Torill was filled with a strange pride as he looked upon the city, how strange it was for him that such a place was beginning to feel slowly like home.

Medese led him down into the cavern and for quite some time they walked in darkness, there steps echoing against the walls and the stream of water that flowed in from the sea.

Torill shivered, his cloak damp and bare feet frozen. He found warmth only from Medese's grasp and not even the cold could damper his lifted mood, how could it when he was in the presence of such a beautiful person who demanded no praise and held no vanity. How odd it was for him, a lonely soldiers whose life was never his own, was now following a magi of Ada into a sea cave with no worries or cares in the world, nothing but a stout love that he thought no Savvage would ever be worthy of. He had pondered long in his solitude of what torture would find him, what atrocities could the Myrrians commit. How cruel this punishment was indeed, to allow him to love someone he knew he could never deserve, I suppose that was atrocious in it’s own rights.

The cave began to glow up ahead, a soft arctic blue glow that had been cast from a crystal lantern that sat like a lonely star above the great cave of ocean water. The tunnel opened to a grand chamber where the stone path they followed continued across the calm waters. Amidst the still waters there was a great mound of pillared rock that climbed to a peak where there stood a sea bird carved from an assortment of ornamental minerals, it's long beak grey and white and held in the tips of it, which had parted slightly, there rested a small smoothed chunk of athireal.

"This is the temple of the Songbird," Medese said as he saw that Torill was kept still in awe of the shimmering blue against the grey walls that climbed high above and met with great slants. Along the walls there were many more openings with carven runes along there entrances, yet no path leading over the water to them.

"In the spring many sea birds will return here to their nests, chirping tunes sacred and sharp, and from here the first of all the Songbirds had learned the song of Ada. The first Songbird stood up there atop the stepping stones and as he listened to the lapping of the waves against the cold stone, the whistling of fluttering birds, and the roar of the ocean alongside the cry of the wind upon the ashen waterfront-" They walked the path and came to the rising stones "-he sung a song in praise of the mothers beauty, a song that carried through the hollow halls of the earth and so all who stood upon Valore could feel the song in their hearts and knew of the Songbirds coming and were glad." Medese climbed the rocks and pressed his hand to the breast of the gilded bird with long legs, a thin body, lustrous plumage, and a sharp pointed beak.

"What did they call the first Songbird" Torill questioned as he stood back, feeling greatly unworthy of being there.

"They named him after this bird, Hanhare." A strange feeling overcame Medese as he looked upon the bird and in his heart grew a longing to sing. It was not a pleasant song he wanted to sing, but a lamentation, to sing of all those lost in the assault of Styor. Medese had gone silent for a few long minutes, unaware and with an unnerving glare up at the breast of the bird, as if he stared at a putrid heart that no other could sense.

"What troubles you Medese?" Torill stepped forward finally, reaching for the man he had so suddenly fallen in love with. At the sound of his voice and the brush of his fingertips against him, Medese had fallen aware and looked upon Torill with a sudden fuming hatred and Torill was afraid, ashamed, and confused.

"Why Styor? Why attack my home! what good had it done for you and your king absolute!?" Medese screamed, his voice ringing vehemently through the chamber, his eyes staring Torill down with such conniption. Torill did not answer, but rather bowed his head in shame and fell to his knees and began to let out ugly sobs.

"What am I?" Torill muttered and Medese was silenced, his mouth agape and his eyes widened, suddenly abashed at his outrage. He swooped to his side, apologetic as he wrapped his arms around Torills bare shoulders beneath his damp cloak. He felt somewhat stupid for allowing himself to feel ashamed for his anger, but he could not bring himself to truly hate Torill, for a reason he did not know.

Medese raised himself to his knees and cupped torills chin in his hand, bringing his face close to his own. He inhaled and held his breath there for some time before closing the gap between their lips. He continued to hold his breath as their lips touched, unmoving as they were both taken aback by how good the feeling was... for how natural it felt. It filled Medese with a strange electricity. Torill was at peace and simply smiled as their lips pressed against one another, with a still passion. When they pulled away Medese exhaled slowly, his breath warm and sweet against Torill's lips and they were happy, smiling stupidly.

"You are mine," Medese had found himself whispering suddenly and as the words came from his lips he had felt strange, yet a certain reassurance had come over him as he had accepted the truth to these words and his feelings had suddenly come to make sense. His mother had told him of such a thing once, when the Myrrian people were young and primal, living in huts and in holes beneath the grass. It was believed some Myrrians fell in love at first sight, their souls reaching out for one another. It was called Alahne, a combination of the two words of love; Alahm, meaning too love truly and wholly and Nehana, to understand suddenly or to become filled with a sudden and absolute feeling. Alahne means to fall in love suddenly, pure and wholly. It was truly love at first sight, the light within them being of one cast, like the sunlight that shines upon both Isis and Valore; both being unique yet of the same star. Why is it considered so primal? because Myrrians love in different ways than we do and so rarely is their love s****l in manner and infatuation is almost never seen. This love is a love hard to explain, yet only when we find ourselves absent of that instinctual need to search for a mate in order to reproduce, when that s****l factor no longer guides our search for love will we understand such things.

Torill looked up at Medese, his eyes filled with a maudlin shimmer, glistening with such a child-like softness. Medese pressed his lips to Torills forehead and held him in his arms, listening to his breathing that signed with the sound of water drops against the surrounding pool, the ripples that labored slowly across its surface. When Medese rose to his feet, so too did Torill. Torill reached out and took the hand of the Songbird, pulling him along as he made his way up the pillared stones. When he was able to press his nose to the translucent surface of the birds heaving chest, his extended his arm out and reached for the athireal lodged in the birds slightly parted beak.

"What are you doing?!" Medese exclaimed in surprise, tugging at his arm. Torill pulled the crystal free and as he held it in his closed palm, he was overwhelmed by such a salubrious warmth that he had let his hand relax and so he fell from the bird, no longer clutching it's outspread wing. Medese caught him and laughed as he held him in his arms once more like a cradled child.

"What a clumsy fool you are! and for what, all to deface a sacred place? what a fool you are Torill!" he chided, failing miserably however as he could not help but smile all the while.

"Why do such a thing?" he inquired as he shook his head in disbelief, highly amused.

"You have been nothing but kind to me, he answered, “I saw a nice gem and I thought to myself 'why waste such beauty on a bird carved from stone when it can sit so perfectly around your neck.’” With that Torill had thrown off his cloak. He stood only two feet taller than Medese, his limbs long and strong, his body toned and his skin covered in the black, traditional tattoos of the Illiban, telling a great story that Medese could not read. His skin had lightened slightly from the many months spent locked away in his cell, secluded in such a clouded land, away from plains and temperate veldts. He wore a pair of grey slacks with some fabric-wrapping around his feet. He bent down and lifted the leg of his pants to reveal a chain wrapped around his ankle.

"All the Illiban wear their family crests around their necks, but the stones they are set with must be earned," Torill explained as he unwrapped it and held the silver chain in his hand. He took the athireal and set it in the small silver pendant, it's surface etched with similar marking that painted his skin, except they all met at the small cut circle in it's centre where the crystal had fit perfectly.

"If I am yours Songbird, though I cannot understand why you'd want such a monster like me, then I suppose that makes you mine," He continued as he moved closer to Medese putting the chain around his neck and watched as it fell over the clasp of his cloak, the pendant dangling between the parted fabric.

Medese reached up and held the necklace in his hand, closing his eyes as he felt the athireal and the cold of the metal between his finger tips.

"Let us return to the tower," Medese said, his eyes remained on his close fist that held the Illiban pendant. Torill nodded in agreement and they had made their way back out of the cavern and out into the open air where they shared another kiss, more passionate than before, caught in the white spray of the sea.

Over the distant city of Styor there loomed a great flagship, it's banners bearing the crest of Orth'valnur. As Medese and Torill had made their way up to the city they had found it in such a pleasant air. The streets were filled now with people dancing and singing as the great pale ship with its many winged sails and it's vissir pens stood gloriously against the autumn sky. Medese and Torill found Kidimira at the building of parliament that stood near the western ship bay, somewhat threatening in its traditional structure. To look upon it was to be filled with dread as the sharp and geometric building stood alien to the city around it; a flat-topped pyramid where a great tower sat atop, grey and white with black glass cast in an oily sheen. The two made their way up the steps and entered the tower, making their way through winding corridors and past numerous chambers filled with social doers engaged in conference.

Oal'durn was as boisterous and jovial as the stories had told. He stood in a conference room next to Kidimira, the two of them laughing at a joke they had just missed. Oal'durn was called the bear with six wings, the lord of Lara and Vissir, ruler of the chiffon towers. He stood taller than most Lara, towering even above the mother Kidimira who even among the Myrrians was considered a tall woman. He was brood in stature, built like a man who tamed great vissir. He had auburn hair set in many beaded braids. His nose was thick and bent, his eyes stern and dark, yet the wrinkles set about his face set a joyous air about him, his rested face wise with a drawn scowl and a gentle gaze. He wore traditional Elegium attire, his cape draped over one shoulder and his tunic the color of aged wine. His crown was simply a handful of large feathers fitted into his hair along the left side of his head, all with jeweled crests. Across his back he carried a great sword made of obsidian and black steel and an ugly scar ran diagonally across his face, he seemed no greater than a hired hand, yet he was a king regarded in the highest of honors.

His voice rang like the roll of thunder and in its wake the very aura about him shook and was set in excited tumults.

"A Songbird! what have I done to deserve such an honorable reception?!" He laughed with such a hearty laughed that it felt as if he were commanding the spring to return and the air did lighten about him and the sun shone brighter, though it hid behind heavy clouds past the glass windows.

"What has brought you to our presence?" Kidimira questioned. She had not turned to face them, not wanting to even look upon Torill who she despised without discretion.

"Forgive my intrusion Sayahn, I will take my leave at once," Medese spoke with his head bowed in ritual respect, but Oal'durn stopped him as he turned to leave. Torill said nothing, but stood grimly next to Medese, his gaze held harshly to Kidimira.

"I do believe it is within the right of a Songbird, given their high ranking status, to seat himself with us," Oal'durn said to no one in particular though we all knew it was directed at Kidimira’s rudeness. And so with the invitation of the king, Medese had taken a seat at the conference table with Torill at his side, sitting across from the King and the Mother

"What peculiar company you keep young Songbird, your kind are always so full of surprises," It was then that Kidimira had noticed the pendant around Medese's neck and she shot to attention immediately, her teeth clenched, lips pursed, and her eyes squinted. Oal'durn watched the scene play out in amused curiosity, running his hand down the length of his braided beard. Kidimira had marched over to Medese and grabbed the pendant about his neck, Medese clasping her wrist with such an intense hold that Kidimira nearly yelped in pain. They eyed each other down, both hissing through gritted teeth and a glare that would’ve sent the very sun shying away, were it actually shining at all.

"Ac'halkhyid," Kidimira cursed, pulling her hand away. Oal'durn erupted into volcanic laughter and the room was filled with the heat of his amusement. He slapped his knee like a jolly saint, his nose and cheeks turned red from joy, his eyes held so shut that it set winkles at his eyes corners.

"What intriguing drama this is!" He commented before laughing again, the feathers in his hair bobbed with the sway of his head and the shake of his shoulders.

"That pendant around his neck, your liege, is a sign of marriage," Kidimira seemed to growl in contempt, glaring down not Medese nor Torill, but the jewel set about his neck.

"Am I invited to this union?" Oal'durn asked, laughing again at his humorous interjection between the fuming tension, though it was only humorous to him.

"Many disapprove of your choice to keep this Savvage in your company and speak not of their feelings only out of respect for you and the position you hold in my temple, but when they learn of this they will be outraged and the prejudice that befalls you will be exculpated," Kidimira hissed and then turned her attention back to the jolly king.

"We have been allied by trade, but should we be besieged again by the forces of Dijynn, I would wish for no greater force to be at our side than the vissir tamers of Orth'valnur." Oal'durn smiled at Kidimira and bowed his head with a warm smile, saying nothing, but the three in the room knew his answer; yes.

"I am a generous king in all matters, but I see here a bigotry that is not justified. This... Torill, is he not highly trained? does he not specialize in the practise of Asaltamun magic? He has a lady to return to, does he not? so why hasn't he? What keeps this Illiban here if not something genuine? I see here an opportunity to bring some light to the dark times Styor has found themselves in," Oal'durn spoke and though he spoke bluntly, where he was going with this was unclear and so he held the attention of all three in the room, settling the feud with trivia.

"I will lend my aid and even build a vissir nest here in this city, however, only if I be the honored guest at the wedding of the Songbird and the Prisoner of Illomon," Oal'durn said with a sly smile directed at Kidimira and great was her anger in that moment, yet all Oal’durn could do was laugh.

Kidimira was furious at the Jolly Kings proposal. She was sent into a heated frenzy, shouting all kinds of obscenities, and all the while the King simply laughing. The wedding was announced to the public hours after when Kidimira had delivered a loyalty-inducing speech on the unity of the Myrrian and Orth'valnur forces, declaring that is was the duty of all the Myrrians to join in the fight against Dijynn and that to stand against it would be to stand against the vindication of Ada herself. Over the months, after the siege of Styor, Kidimira was headed the tasks of public affairs alongside her religious duties. As the mayoral seat sat empty, given the sudden upheaval of provincial order after Dijynns assault as he had swept ruin across the southern provinces while fleeing Sebri'ati, Kidimira had taken up the position not only as the mother reagent of Illomon, but of all of Styor. She was a strong leader and put passion into all her actions.

Medese had carried on normally with his day to day tasks, yet at his side there was always Torill, dressed to oppose his newly found lover. When Medese wore the red and gold of autumn rituals, Torill was dressed not in semblance to the flora, but of the fauna; He wore grey and brown that seemed to be fading into white, adorned with antlers and bone. When Medese dressed in the mixing colors of the sea, Torill wore colors of the sky. When Medese wore his cloak of feathers, Torill wore a tunic of black scales, a gift from Miqirava.

Miqirava was ecstatic at the news and the evening that followed the announcement they had held a feast at Miqirava’s home, Carn joining them, gifting Torill with their blessings.

The public, though surprised, respected Medeses choices still. It wasn't until a week after the conference of the mother reagent and the king that Kidimira would come to see why Oal'durn had suggested such a thing. Still reeling from the horror of war, the city was glad to have a day of celebration, even Torill was astonished by how well he was received by those who before so openly opposed his very existence. It was not their union that was so uplifting, but the festivities and what their unity symbolized. Some were disgusted, those on distant worlds who had cared little for the Songbird, but on Valore everyone cheered for the happiness of Medese and the celebrations that had come in honor of him.

The great street that ran from the steps of the temple to the gates of the city had been decorated with pink petals and silk banners of blue and silver. monuments had been raised, pillars, ascribed with the names of all those who died on the very streets of Styor. Around them were often set prayers in the form of burning incense, symbols of good will in death, and memorabilia. Now, however, they were decorated with things of blessing to the wedding. Archways of flowers had been cast over the roads from the sidewalk to the meridians. Songs of love played through the streets and great silken banners decorated merchant lanes and alleyways were their wares were traded and given.

Bakers baked the sweetest of traditional pastries, tailors offered up brooches bearing the sigil of the Songbird except it was colored black now in honor of Torill. Before the doors of the temple there was an arch of flowers decorated with Dysochi's; fruscia, sangria, rouge, and iris colored flowers native to Sebri'ati. They coiled with the flowers if Kzvelta; Spiraling Inorcho, winged Mmayk, Feathery Mazta, and satiny Jhah. It was the Lara and the Myrrians who enjoyed the wedding day above all, for within the temple and amongst the political dignitaries it was chaos. When such a ceremony was to be held it was planned over the course of months, possibly even an entire year. With the Songbird holding such a high position, being a celebrated figure, Torill being almost an attraction in the whole of the festive, it was a nightmare to direct as the peoples of Styor and of Orthvalnur were excited above all. The wedding was held two weeks after the conference.

Torill sat at the brink of the great pool before the pink-petaled tree. He sat cross-legged and ran his fingers slowly over the still waters, distorting the reflections cast over the surface. He had spent many days now in the gardens of Illomon and yet he could find himself never grasped by the clutches of boredom. The air hung heavy with the natural perfumes of wild flowers, with the damp spray of sprinklers. Even the songs sung softly to the dirt and stems tasted sweet on the air. Medese hummed to himself as he sat leaned against the trunk of the tree, the hood of his feather cloak pulled over his eyes. There were no monks here, only Sisters standing guard and garden attendants, the chirping insects and birds who nested here sung along to the tunes of the water and rustling leaves.

"I feel as if i'm trapped in a dream my Songbird," Torill finally spoke as he watched his reflection become clear as the ripples cleared and the pool was still once more. Medese did not react, just sat in silence with his eyes shielded from the light.

He answer only after some time had passed, "Perhaps this is just a dream, but which one of us is the dreamer?"

Torill smiled and so did Medese, thinking himself a proper sage. Torill flicked the water and sent a wave that swallowed the pink petals. He got to his feet and moved to Medese, seating himself at his side. Medese leaned his head upon Torill's shoulders. A petal drifted slowly down from the tree above and it came to rest upon Medese's knee and he sighed,

"Why has the mother brought us together?" He asked openly to the cosmos, yet it was Torill who answered.

"Sometimes love needs no explanation, it simply exists as it is," Torill answered with surprising wisdom, his words warmly spoken and his hand coming to hold Medese's. Medese chuckled to himself and pondered upon how he had been brought here to this very moment. He knew Torill was right and in that moment knew truly the gift of Ada; free will and free love.

They sat there long and fell into a light sleep as rain begun to fall just outside the tower, a gentle rain that turned, eventually, to snow. On the day of the wedding the city was filled with the most alluring of music and the bells of the pavilion rang all throughout the day until finally in the early evening the ceremony would begin.

Torill was attended to by a group of sisters and Angdira, who had come to find Torill's silent presence as a comfort over the past few weeks. Marriage was a Laran custom that became quite famous among those of the southernmost provinces, as the Lara influence had grown in Shior and Virtana. Torill’s long hair had been taken from its braids and fell in soft waves to his lower back. He was dressed in a suited tunic of asymmetric design, decorated with soft blue flowers and chains of silver. A head dress he wore too, a crown of blue and faded pink flowers that burst with large feathers and had been adorned with pale gemstones. He was barefoot, the tattoos that snaked down his legs were highlighted with grey and blue and the belt around his waist held a bow of silk that fell in swaying swaths to his knees, dangling over his right hip.

"Tashall," Angdira clicked his tongue to gain Torills attention as he stared at himself in a disk-mirror, "How does it feel?" he asked as Torill reached up to trace his fingertips over the striped brown and white feathers.

Torill knew not how to answer for though the fabric was incredibly comfortable (as all Myrrians clothes are) he felt uncomfortable in the attire, seeing himself as alien in the dress.

"What is Medese wearing?" was all he said in answer and Angdira chuckled, placing his hands on his shoulders and smiling at him from behind, admiring him through the mirror as he peered over his shoulder.

"He will be shocked at your transformation," Angdira assured him and Torill straightened his stance and shuffled on his feet to find a more stoic poise, analyzing himself in the mirrors reflection. Angdira set the Sisters back to work on him as they attended to the finer details of his regalia, still fitting it to his comfort. Angdira had left the chamber Torill was being dressed in and made his way from the temple to visit a blacksmith he had been going to be seeing for the past while.

Medese was in the tower, being attended to by his fellow Brothers and Sisters. He wore a fine dress made of Ni'ysha petals, a flower that grows abundantly through the sea of trees, silky and light pink. His short hair was brushed until it shone like gold, large flowers and soft bells were plaited into his hair, his face painted with floral designs.

When the ceremony began the sky was stagnant, soft blue shining between motionless grey clouds. Beyond the city walls all you could see were the autumn dressed trees stretching off into the distances and the birds that often flew up into the heavens on eager wings. The great street were filled with Myrrian and Laran alike, watching and waiting in anticipation for the doors of the temple to open, as eager as the birds in their flight as weddings were so rare and yet alluring to the Myrrians. Torill was the first to come out of the temple, the huge wooden doors drawn open by unseen attendants. He stood there, his face drawn into a deep scowl and his reddish brown skin pronounced against the light shades of the Myrrian robes. There was silence as all attention had been turned to the splendor he was caped in, how fair he appeared before them. As the wind hurried past, as if to take its place among the crowd, a few petals had fluttered from his head dress. No one cheered nor sung as Torill stood before them on the temple steps and as the seconds turned to minutes a heavy dread had grown in his stomach, knotting and twisting his gut, yet many found it was the surprising beauty that kept them in frozen surprise. Suddenly the air rang with the chime of a bell, a great bell that echoed far across the land. Another bell joined in, then another, and then all the bells of the temple were ringing, calling out and answering with perfect tune. Medese appeared in the open doorway and all had gasped in perfect unison as they looked upon Medese, and Torill above all was struck by his grace. The way his dress of large pink petals swayed with his every motion, the small clatter of the bells, the smile set upon his pearly skin, Torill had never known such allure and he was astounded by how gorgeous he held himself, dressed in a flowing gown of flora.

They stood side by side upon the steps of the church as a brother had come down from the tower and recited a sacred text, read in old Myrrian and with the humming of singers to rejoice alongside him;

"There is a breath that is shared when lovers first meet,

A spark of a million lights when their lips first meet.

The Love that is shared between two beings that is born of a blooming romance,

that is Ada.

When children are harvested from tavilmara [caves of birthing] and first given to their guardians,

that familial love,

that is Ada.

We find love everywhere and in everything; We find beauty and compassion in all that we do.

Where there is life,

where there is compassion,

where there is beauty,

there exists Ada,

for it is her light and love that flows through us all."

He stepped between them and moved them to face each other, resting his open palms on their cheeks.

"Here, before the sea, as it sings for us from dusk to dawn,

you are unified under the laws of the Myrrian empire and with the love of the temple of Ada.

Kiss and be one," The Brother spoke and took a few steps back, his arms held high in the air, allowing for Medese and Torill to slowly inch closer to one another. Before the whole host of thousands that gathered down the central street, They kissed and all who were there cheered deafeningly. They descended the steps and stood before those who were waiting at the bottom of the stairwell, the honored who awaited with gifts to give. Carn gifted to Torill a necklace of small diamonds that was set with a blessing charm, a small white shell that spiralled into itself. She leaned in and kissed his cheek, holding the same spot with her hand as she smiled to him warmly. To Medese she offered a similar gift yet this was linked gold and was set with a athireal charm, a bracelet that Medese would come to wear always.

The second to bare gifts was Miqirava who had given Torill a fan of great white feathers that was tied with leather and from the tassels were chunks of undefined amethyst. She grabbed his face with both hands, pulling him down to a bow so she could kiss his forehead for her and Medese shared their short stature. To Medese she gifted a family heirloom that was to be gifted to him before her time of passing, a leaf pin of emerald that was infused with the blessing of the fourth house of magic, healing. He would hold his unruly hair that fell into his eyes back with this pin and his healing was amplified now to a greater regard.

The third was Angdira who carried with him a satchel at his side and a long wooden box with a rope handle and engravings of the blacksmithing guild upon its face.

“Toshall, my friend, I gift to you what was broken and thought lost to you,” He stepped forward and kneeled before Torill, placing the box on the ground and opening, revealing the sword of black that was shattered against the blade of Athrona’s. Torill looked surprised and yet his heart had fluttered as he fell to his knees and ran his hand over the blades length.

“Thank you, friend,” He whispered to Angdira and then pulled him into a warm embrace. This seemed to surprise those that stood before them, yet Medese simply laughed and so too did Angdira, hugging him back. To Medese he had given him a bundle of sage that had been tied with twine and bunched wit small violet flowers and bits of white moss. Angdira kissed Medese upon his nose and then stepped back to allow Kidimira to step up.

Kidimira glowered Torill down but offered him a gift that some would believe to be an olive branch, a mask of delicate wood carved by the hands of those of Kzvelta, a mask painted in the color of dried mud and decorated with the face of a lynx and with fuzzy feathers set about the bottom of the masks shape. She reached out her open hand and Torill, after a few seconds of confusion and with Kidimira mouthing ‘your hand’, he had placed his hand in her and she kissed the back of his hand,

“Do not make me regret my trust in you,” She hissed to him and no others had heard save Medese. To him she gave a masters gift, a traditional robe of the Songbirds that he would’ve been gifted only when she deemed he was ready, a garb he would wear only once. It was much in hue to the garments of the Sisters, holding all the colors of the seas and was made from the silk of spiders. She kissed his hand also, bowing to him, dressed in a tunic of grey with a golden belt, her braids adorned now with beads and dream catchers.

The fifth was the governess of Stior who gifted them both was clasps of fine Myrrian metal named vidimnir and it was created with runes of sacrament. The final gifts were given by Oal’durn himself who stood dressed in a flowing canary robe, his face painted blue and a great crown of feathers he wore still, a beaded belt too with a sash of fur and tassels adorned with small bronze bells.

“Mohmeh ahgahme pe puleh,” He said in blessing to Torill as he approached him, looking down at him with a gay smile and to him he gifted a bundle of white twigs wrapped in black fur and to whose leaves were grayish and smelled of wild mint and the dew of pine. He leaned down and kissed Torill on the opposite cheek of Carn and whispered into his ear only words he would know,

“Ovijl ui’liesh Medeshall buihy (home shall be where Medese awaits),” Oal’durn said in the common dialect of Kzvelta and Torill smiled as he looked to Medese who was looking to him too with soft eyes, his lips parted slightly, and the light caught in his dazzling blue eyes.

To Medese he gave a wand of twisted wood set with a yellow stone and wrapped in gold wire,

“Mohmeh anmirad mhegelet,” He said to him and kissed the same cheek as he did Torill and when his gift was received with Medese’s fullest thanks Oal’durn pulled another item from within the sash he wore and it was to Torill that it was given and so too were the words spoken;

“The Oracle gifts this to you and bids you carry it always,” he said and so it was Torill held in his hand an arrow nearly the full height of his sword, an arrow made from the same white wood and with a long sharp head of unknown metal, it’s wings were black feathers too and small lines snaked about it’s body alike to the lines traced in the trunk of a tree beneath it’s bark.

With the gifts given the Honored guest had stepped to the side as drums began to sound as well as the chanting chorus of the choirs who stood there alongside the Brother, singing out in joy as bells and flutes played too. The crowd that gathered parted and Medese and Torill made there way down the great street, the finely dress Laran and Myrrian reaching out to touch them, throwing up petals and faded leaves crumpled in their hands. Divided by the monuments and the Meridians that parted the streets, they made their way to the city gates and out into the open field and just as their hands touched snow began to fall lightly and together they crossed the field to the Pavilion where there waited for them, much to their surprise the Queen of Zjinn and Mishandvr herself. The Queen was named Omene-demystelde and wore a fanning crown of gold set with diamonds the colour of blood. She wore a gowning jacket of yellow and with black spots, gold pauldrons sat on her shoulders with long slender feathers flowing from the golds rims, a great cape of shimmering platinum and gold trailing behind her, her bare feet were dirty and about her ankles were fur wrapped with brownish wool. Her skin was caramel and se stood taller than the Hirtose next to him. Mishandvr had soft umber skin, her thin eyes gleaming like amber, her sharp nose was set with studs of white. Her white hair was shaved so that her sunburst crown of gleaming ocher, dressed in a draping tunic of black set with a collar of gold and opals, her bare arms were clasped in finger-less gauntlets of the same metal as her crown. At her hip that was sheathed a fine blade with a grey hilt and set with opals, the length of the blade in it’s leather scabbard fell nearly to the ground. There were no guards with them and behind the two there was no followers for all had remained within the walls and the merriment of the night were begun as the time of dinner called many to feast. There, in the snowfall upon raised ground, the two stood before the rulers and were greeted with warm welcome. Torill was regarded in the language of the Illiban and Medese was spoken to in Myrrian by his empress. Mishandvir looked down upon him, her gaze intense as she seemed angered in her relaxed stand and yet she spoke with genuine love for him in her voice.

“I congratulate you on the love you have found Songbird and my blessing is with you both,” She said as she leaned down, for she towered above him and even above Torill,

“And may a lifetime of joy be with you both," She added and kissed his lips softly.

To Torill, Omenes greeting was similar;

“You are forgiven of all that Vanna has condemned you to, I cannot imagine what horrors you must of endured. Forgive me Toshall, forgive me for abandoning you," Omene spoke with a hand rested upon his shoulder and Torill was brought to tears.

“A child you were and a child you have been until now. Bask in the light of love that the Songbird blesses you with and know that you are welcome always to come home to us, your people mourn for you no longer and for your brothers and sisters that were so swiftly cut down we have built a monument to honor them, the children we thought dead and yet who after all this time lived only to be brainwashed by that monstrous lady,” She continued and she too did cry.

“You are now under my laws Torill and I gift to you both here a home, a palace near the temple and at Kidimira’s request you shall be charged with the training of warriors here,” Mishandvr said and Medese was warmed by this as Torill was accepted now into the light of the empire and was a prisoner no longer. To them there was gifted a tower with a domed roof and with chambers open to the air, a palace of their own that in time would become a national monument. It was erected by magi and builders within two weeks and was a rich abode. Omene gifted to them both a blanket of many fabrics, the colors of it painting a splendid scene of the vast open fields of Kzvelta with domed structures and the red sun rising over the horizon, flat topped trees standing against the red glow. It was hung above their sleeping nest and would be cherished dearly by Torill as it seemed to him an emblem of the future that lay ahead of him, freed from Vanna. It was a sight of his homeland that was more glorious than he could've ever imagined and yet this land he would never see.

With the gifts of the two rulers given they had set off and returned to their thrones and Medese and Torill returned to the city to find it was delved into celebration. Music filled the air and so too did the taste and scent of starlight, feasts were held all throughout the city and dancers filled the streets as the evening fell to night. At their new home, which had been furnished comfortably, they were greeted by Carn and Miqirava and many other familiar faces, Angdira being among them. Larans were there too and so was Oal’durn, but Kidimira had duties to attend to and would join no parties and sing no songs that night, held up in the tower of Illomon until the dawn. Stripping their ceremonial dress and garbing themselves in light attire the two had danced, sung, and feasted long into the night. Starlight filled their cups at all time and they had grown drunk on the starlight and their joy.