Into The Rift

The Thread She Weaves (45)

They are young, seeking the allure of the greater world as if it were without peril. If only their fierce hearts were tempered with wisdom. I huff away my musings, letting them drift away into the fair winds.

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With a heart brimming with conflicting opinions, I make my departure out and away from the parade grounds. A hand reaches for my shoulder, holding me in place.

The fingers curl into my skin, firm in its touch. "It will not bode well if you do not heed the call. You may be injured still, but you can still serve as Helms Captain for one of Sonarai's vessels of war," Jirell says.

As if to affirm his statement, a sharp breath forces a wave of fresh pain through my chest. It sears through my muscles, even with the best of life mending magic.

I raise my voice with indignation, prying his hands away. The weight of decision stains my soul, and against my will, I can only choose one.

"Surely there are others more suited for such a task, you know my training at the academy is unfinished," I reply, hoping it would dissuade the Grand Cabal from his attempts. Though a dear friend, it saddens me to see him fail to grasp the scale of my dilemma.

"The armada needs more at the helms, preferably ones that are of exemplary caliber," Jirell insists, as we wade through the bastion city's bustling streets.

"You left to wed your wife, to live a life of peace. That I know, as does the academy. You were one of our best, your scores during the trial of courage and tactics is unmatched to this day still. You may have turned your back on us, but we never will. "

The echoing chimes of a distant chapel rings as I muddle in deep thought, facing a crossroads of my own life. It was just like before. To choose a life of duty, or romance. Things were simpler had the humans not came to our shores.

"I must think about it," I sigh, bracing a hand against my temple. Our footsteps patter against the stonework roads as we weave through men and women alike.

"Two days," he relents, "I need your answer before dusk falls on that day. The fleet will not offer delays, not with the Herald watching over all our efforts."

I pause for a brief moment of serenity, basking in the flow of the open streets. Women watch over their children with loving gazes, whilst soldiers at rest sought to banter over the slightest of things, often accompanied with laughter and gleeful eyes.

"I will leave you to your wife," he nudges me on my better side. "At the very least, I hope by showing you the final rites, you will see the truth. Our lives are tied to this endeavor."

"That is what I am wary of," I whisper.

"You would only presume so," he answers, facing me with a resolute frown. "With a heart lacking in courage."

Without parting words to mark his intent, Jirell he turns sharply on his heels and leaves. He joins the assemble of Marshalls a fair distance away, hands folded behind his back as he weaves into their presence with well known authority.

They begin to discuss affairs of logistics, diving into the details with hushed tones of secrecy, their words stroking the ambers in my spirit.

"They would never understand it." I say, letting the bellowing winds carry my unsaid grievances into the hereafter. The Marshalls all swore life to the realm of duty, never knowing the boundless treasures of love and romance.

I pity their chains...

Carrying forth the burden of decision in my spirit, I make my way home. Back to them. I have no quarrel with those who seek the threads of duty, but I will not be woven into its silk.