"Let's Watch the Sunrise"
Silvermoon, Emphyralis
The sun was rising over Silvermoon. Silvermoon was a long way from the eastern mountain range. They got a good view of the vivid midnight blue, purple, pink, and orange layers. Una, Ianna, and Armus, the three moons over Emphyralis, were fading away as Orro, the sun, made its appearance.
Elias and Chrystianna watched the sunrise from the highest point of Silvermoon Keep. They'd been up all night. They didn't want to miss a moment of Elias' last night on Emphyralis. Just before dawn, as they lay in bed, Elias looked out the window. "Let's watch the sunrise," he suggested.
Chrystianna had turned her head as well and looked out. She smiled a bittersweet smile. "Yes. Let's watch the sunrise together," she agreed.
A few minutes later, wrapped up in blankets, they sat on the roof of a turret. Chrystianna was snuggled in his lap, head resting back against his shoulder. Their hands were linked in her lap. Elias rested his chin against her temple. They didn't speak. Everything that needed to be said was said.
Listening to the morning songbirds, and the Keep beginning to stir as attendants began to go about their morning work. They were so far up, it seemed far away, but comforting, nonetheless. Elias kissed the top of her head. She hummed contentedly.
Orro finally took dominance over the sky. Elaides retreated with the stars, and the Sisters of the Moon faded under his radiance. "It's almost time. The Voidstalker will come for me soon. Better to greet him fully dressed," Elias finally said.
Chrystianna pouted grumpily and wrapped her arms around his waist. "No," she said petulantly, shaking her head stubbornly. She wasn't serious, just acting a little spoiled.
Elias saw through her and chuckled. He gathered her up into his arms and stood. He Voidwalked off the roof and reappeared in the bedroom. She clung to him. He pinched her waist. "Come on. I don't want some ancient ancestor seeing my wife in her night clothes," he teased.
She finally scrunched her nose and let him set her down. She went into the dressing room and picked out a comfortable day dress while he put his suit back on. She approached him and smoothed his lapel. "Is there anything else you need?" she asked. She continued to play with his suit jacket.
He chuckled again. "Between you and the children, I've been loaded up with everything I could need for practically any situation. "I have food, different types of Draconite, clothes, medicine. You name it, I have it," he said. He draped his hands around her waist loosely. "The only thing I won't have is my family," he said quietly.
Chrystianna stared up at him for a long time. She leaned her forehead against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "We'll always be there," she murmured, bumping his chest. "I'm in there. Darius and Britiana are in there. The babies are in there now, too," she said, her voice calm, firm.
"Mm," he agreed. "I'll contact you every week and send letters to everyone every month along with reports," he assured her. She looked up and they shared a smile.
A cleared throat caught their attention. The sound came from the anteroom of the master suite. They turned toward the door. Elias took Chrystianna's hand and squeezed it. "Stay here. There's no need to follow me out. We'll say goodbye here," he said. He lowered his head and gave her one last, lingering kiss.
Chrystianna returned his kiss until he reluctantly pulled away. She kept hold of his hand until he walked too far, and they finally had to part. She stared at the bedroom door as it closed behind him with a soft sound. The sound seemed to echo through the room. She kept staring until she knew he was gone. She continued to stare.
Finally, she stumbled over to her bed and crawled back into it. She covered her head with the blankets. She didn't cry. There was no need for that. However, she would need time to recover so she could function the rest of the day. No matter what, she was the Grand Duchess of Silvermoon. She was still a mother.
She was also still a woman who had to say goodbye to her love for an unknown amount of time. She just needed a little time.
Just a little.
--
Raziel Voidstalker awaited Elias in the bedchamber anteroom. He flashed his descendent an apologetic smile. Elias shook his head. He didn't want apologies, or empty words of condolences. It was his decision to return to the Enclave. "Open the way, please, Ancestor," he said respectfully.
He wasn't the oldest member of the Amethyst Voidrifters who'd been taken off world hastily, but he was the strongest. He was also the highest rank. The others often looked at him as a leader. When the Voidstalker came to him and offered him the chance to return to Emphyralis, it was proposed to be permanent.
Elias was genuinely excited at first. Going home to Chrystianna? His children will be there, too? It was his dream. Then he remembered he wasn't alone. Looking at the faces of his companions, he asked about them.
Raziel shook his head regretfully. "What I can do is limited. I can occasionally help the Grand Duchess and Dracosenati. I can occasionally help my own descendants. I cannot affect the fates of so many people directly," he'd answered. It was uncharacteristic of him to give such a clear and concise answer.
Elias considered his options. He spoke with a couple of other comrades that he trusted and would probably be considered part of the "leadership". He assured them that he would be back and with supplies. They were somewhere safe for now. It was a good time to take a break.
Now he was returning. Raziel tore open the air in front of him and stepped back. "May fate favor you, descendent," he gave his salutations.
"Go with peace, Ancestor," Elias returned the salutation and stepped through the tear. He stepped into a world where there wasn't much technology, and electricity was just becoming mainstream. People still either rode on mounts, or carriages pulled by beasts of burden. Electric crank carriages were just beginning to appear for the rich. It was a world with no magic and low technology. A good world to take refuge in their attempt to discover the origin of the Dragon Hunters.
He arrived in the midst of his companions. They excitedly greeted him, wanting to know everything. Elias laughed lightly, shaking off his own melancholy to keep their spirits up. He showed them all the goodies he brought them.
When the excitement died down, he talked to them about the possibility of going home for good. It was a long conversation that they would debate for days to come.
As for Raziel Voidstalker? After sending his descendent back to that other world, he stepped into the Void from whence he was born and would roam until the next time someone needed his help.
--
Starshadow
It was the day of Ludvig Shadowclaw's funeral. It was turning into an extraordinarily beautiful day for Myrkir. The constant hazy skies cleared, and sunlight dappled the gray cobblestone that lined the city of Starshadow. Sonja sneered slightly as she observed the weather. It was almost as if the gods were celebrating the death of a traitor.
The night she informed her sisters-in-law of their brother's death, they descended upon the Castle. The three of them immediately tried to take over the planning of the funeral; demanding to see him, dress him, and prepare his funerary vessel of the most ostentatious materials. They wanted the grandest funeral, with a parade and musicians playing dirges through the streets of the city.
Sonja had scoffed at this. "Absolutely not! Your precious baby brother is a traitor to Emphyralis. He planned the kidnapping of newborn children. The children of the Grand Duchess of the Dracosenati. He's lucky he isn't being disposed of by being thrown into the Abyss!" she scolded them. She kept her voice low because she didn't want her children to accidentally overhear these words.
"How dare you!" Olga, the eldest sister said and raised a hand to slap Sonja, disregarding her status, and treating her only as the hussy who married her brother and was now disrespecting her.
Coming from seemingly nowhere, Roark caught his aunt's hand. "That's enough, Aunt Olga," he said calmly. If he wasn't particularly close to his father, he was even more distant from these harpies dressed like Dragons. They'd never had a good face for him. He didn't really care. They didn't seem to particularly like boys. Not only him, but he'd noticed the same with Shadowclaw children as well.
Sonja pursed her lips. "Let her go, Roark. I'm all right," she said.
Roark threw his aunt's hand away lightly. "You're pregnant and have been stressed because of this. They don't need to add to that," he said.
Olga harrumphed. Helga and Frega sniffed coldly.
Sonja had scoffed. "I'll let you dress him. But his funerary vessel will be the plainest ebonwood, and his shroud will be the coarsest fabric. He'll be taken to the Temple in a closed hearse. There will be no funeral dirges, no procession. We'll be lucky if the citizens don't throw things at the hearse," she told the sisters.
Sonja had left them alone with their brother's body; Roark followed her out.
A sound brought her out of her reverie. A Drake was standing on her desk, waiting for her coin. Sonja went to her and paid her. She presented the pouch to Sonja. Sonja took out the box that was inside. She thanked the Drake and she flew away.
The box had the names of her daughters written on it.
Sonja had to admit curiosity. It was still a couple hours before the funeral. People were sending condolence flowers, but little else. No one was invited to the funeral. Only the family would be in attendance. To receive a gift was unusual. The Drake was an official from Silvermoon, so she doubted there was anything dangerous about the gift.
She took the box to the bedroom suite shared by her daughters. They were awake, playing a strategy game made up of various tiles against each other in the common room. They weren't dressed yet, wearing lounge robes and slippers. They looked at her when she came in. "What's going on?" Phaedra asked.
Ophelia tilted her head, then made a move while her sister was distracted.
Phaedra tsked disgustedly at her sister's underhanded, but legal, move. "Withdraw," she said, conceding the game.
Sonja chuckled at them. "Someone sent you a gift," she answered and approached the table where the game was set up and handed them the box.
It wasn't a large box, maybe thirteen inches square. Inside were sleek devices they weren't familiar with. There were two of them. On top was a note explaining that they were devices to play games from Terranthea. They explained how to use it and recharge it using the Draconite hunk fused with Terranthean technology device. There was also a thick stack of papers inside explaining various aspects of the devices. The note was signed off for them to have fun and stay strong.
Sonja furrowed her eyebrows as she watched the girls pull out the devices and turn them on. "What is it?" she asked unsurely.
"A device to play various games with it seems," Phaedra answered, interested to find out what kind of games Terrantheans played. Soon, bright colors lit up a small screen and cheerful music filled the air. There was an interesting little character giving them a tutorial. The most basic games were card games, then board games. There were also strategy games, which were becoming more and more complex.
Seeing them becoming absorbed in the devices, Sonja was relieved and mildly exasperated. "Don't forget. We will escort your father to the Temple in two hours," she told them.
The girls didn't even acknowledge her. She pursed her lips and left their bedroom. At least they weren't dwelling on their grief. There was at least that.
An hour before they were due to head to the Starlit Temple of Elaides, Sonja checked on the body of her husband to make sure his sisters weren't trying to pull something. He was in a special room in the Ducal Residence only for mourning. It was like a home Temple. His sisters, dressed to the nines in their mourning clothes. It was really hard on the eyes.
Ludvig had been dressed in a sedate but insanely expensive suit. At least it wasn't gaudy. It was more than she could say for his sisters. He was also half covered with a luxurious death shroud. She restrained an eye roll but let them have it. She wouldn't argue. No one would see it except them and the clergy.
She went back to her own room to change clothes. It was rare for her to wear dresses. It just wasn't her style, but today she wore an understated, dark navy skirt, black blouse and a sharp, matching jacket over the blouse. It really set off the fact that she was pregnant, but it wasn't as if it was a secret, nor was she trying to hide it. She pulled her hair back into a sedate bun. A pair of ankle high boots with heels finished off her ensemble. She wore no jewelry or other embellishments.
She went to check on her girls. They were finishing up helping each other with their hair. They were dressed similarly to their mother; the only difference was the shades of their skirts and jackets. Phaedra wore dark ocean blue and Ophelia wore a dark, muted almost burgundy color. They also didn't wear any embellishments.
Sonja helped them finish up. "I just want to assure you both that it's okay to cry today," she told them seriously.
Phaedra gave her a slight smile. "Why wouldn't we know that?" she said. This comment wasn't directed at her mother. They understood what she meant. They would be crying for a traitor. Others might be afraid of judgment or censure from the public. They weren't. They would cry if they wanted to cry. They wouldn't cry if they didn't. Other people wouldn't dictate their actions today.
Sonja smiled and hugged each of them. They left the suite and found Roark waiting for them. Wearing charcoal and slate gray, he was also plainly and somberly dressed. "Father is in the hearse and the carriages are waiting for us and the aunts," he said.
Sonja nodded. "Let's go," she said. She held one of her daughters' hands in each of hers and stepped into the shadows. Roark followed.
They arrived near the Gatehouse of the Castle where a contingent of guards waited on sleek, gray horse-like mounts. They surrounded the black hearse and two muted gray carriages. The carriages were drawn by the same mounts the guard rode. They started toward the carriage closest to the hearse but stopped when they saw movement inside. It seemed the Shadowclaw sisters had already claimed it.
Sonja didn't react, merely redirected to the second carriage as if she always meant to head to it. The girls didn't notice but Roark did. He said nothing either. Once the family was situated, the procession started.
A normal funeral for the Duke Consort wouldn't only be a procession of two carriages and the hearse. There would usually be important guests, like the members of the Onyx Council, Lower and Upper Parliament, Conclave of Scales and Dracosenati. There would be a huge honor guard. There would be musicians playing dirges. The High Priestess of the Starlit Temple of Elaides would lead the procession.
This was not the funeral of the Duke Consort. This was the funeral of a traitor who happened to have been Duke Consort.
As they traveled down the streets of Starshadow, sunlight continued to shine more brightly than it had in over a year. People lined the streets. In normal times it would be a respectful send off. This time they hurled curses upon the traitor's head. Nothing bad was said about his family, only him. One of the things that made him angry was betraying his family. They revered Sonja, respected Roark, and adored Phaedra and Ophelia. They'd never let a consort's actions besmirch their reputations. If there were some people who felt that way, they didn't voice it.
The Starshadow family ignored the shouts and insults. The Shadowclaw sisters could not. "How dare these peasants say such vulgar things about our Viggy!" Helga wailed. Frega was sobbing incoherently. Olga's hands were clenched, her face white with anger.
This was all their grandmother's fault. Yes, she was emotional, but not stupid. She may lash out at Sonja, but this travesty didn't start with her. It started with the promise they made to their dying grandmother to honor the marriage between the two families. They even swore on Elaides name.
They weren't in a hurry. Sonja didn't seem to be in a hurry either. It probably would have been another century before they married if Ludvig hadn't suddenly started pushing for the marriage. Before the plague, it was common for Dragons to dodder around until nearly two centuries before they married. They thought it would be the same with this marriage.
Helga and Frega were too emotional, but as head of their family, Olga brought herself under enough control to read the reports Sonja provided them. No one was defaming their brother. Someone had fed their idiot brother grand ideas and then killed him when he got caught.
They all knew their brother was an idiot. He was smart enough to function as a justice, but he was a worldly idiot. They would have been content to raise and spoil him for the rest of his life. They hoped to find him a wife that would adore him just as much as they did.
Then their grandmother made them promise and everything went wrong. Sonja didn't love or adore him. She lived far away. She wasn't the right woman for him. They always knew it. The most they ever hoped for was that she would take care of him and treat him kindly. That seemed to be the case. They didn't like her, but they couldn't find fault with her. If it weren't for Ludvig's own actions, he'd still be alive, and they would have eventually convinced him to get divorced. They'd have him back, and they'd all be happy.
Helga and Frega weren't ready to hear this yet. She wasn't entirely ready to accept it either. She hated that people were hurling insults at him, but what could she say? He deserved them.