Wing and a Prayer

[Izznet H'unar]

The quiet before the storm has always promised to bring discomfort and uneasy static to the heart and mind. For Izznet it held a foreboding that was difficult to ignore. A great deal was at stake with the prices almost too heavy to pay.

Elections were winding to their final days and held an air of anticipation. Promises made for the sake of a gullible few would soon be broken in the light of personal agendas. There was one constant she used as a firm foundation, that of Baron Arkon.

He understood honor and integrity. His unwavering resolve to see a project to its conclusion was a great asset. The promise of his upcoming nuptials had been, as they say, icing on the cake.

For Izznet, however, the end of an election run held a different promise. The ability to focus on the binding ceremony brought a level of bitter sweetness to her heart. She sat in the library at Aegis to pen a guest list.

The list would, naturally, be very short. Neither of them were interested in grand showings, and the turmoil of the recent months had made it blatantly obvious who was friend and who was foe. But one name on the list stood out as deeply troubling.

When Aedon relinquished control of the cursed sword he lost more than just that. He lost a piece of himself. Nemira had made a promise not to return to him when he called her. That bond they shared was thick and deep, when it was severed even Izznet could feel its sting.

Izznet knew his desire for a ceremony was for her sake, but she had insisted he have some degree of input. He had given names for the guest list, and she took those names seriously. The one that held the greatest trouble for her was that of Nemira.

If the guardian was so angered by his actions as to sever that long time bond, how would she ever agree to Izznet’s request? If she did not give her approval, the bonding would be cancelled. There was no other choice but to abide with the wishes of the great guardian.

Deep in her heart, Izznet knew he loved her. She loved him with all that she ever was or would be, and to that end she would honor the wishes of Nemira. Izznet would die inside, but to keep him near she would pay whatever price was asked of her. What more could she do?

 

[Izznet H'unar]

The moons hung low on the horizon and the stars twinkled in joyous abandon as the dark elf stepped into the quiet field. The task was simple enough, but with heavy consequence were it to fail. None the less, she was determined to make the request known.

*whispered to the West winds*

“Oh great guardian of my Heart, hear my cry and heed my words. If my name has found favor to your ears, grant me audience. Harken to my plea and have mercy.”

All that could be done was to wait.

 

[Aedon Durreah]

I am never sure of what those who walk the mortal plane expect from me. Though many a time I have lent ear to some man, woman or child beseeching me for aid in their daily life. It seemed odd to me the day I started to listen to their prayers.

I know something within me changed that day when I took within me the essence of a woman who had died given birth. It was with great interest that I listened as Figol spoke of her virtues and offered up his own plea to me. It was an odd request, but one that I felt moved to grant once I heard the full tale.

And so, this gentle spirit came to dwell within me and in time, she and I became almost as one. Many times as she stood watching her child grow I felt a mixture of joy and sadness. How hard must it have been to stand within a hare’s breath of her child and be unable to wrap him in her embrace? And as I bore witness to her watchful gaze on the child she gave her life for, I too became irrevocably attached to him as well.

He became the light in my eyes and the song in my heart. And as he grew I took pride in watching as he became a man both noble and strong. And always, at the heart of all he did was this compassion and caring that must have been past to him by his mother. It hurt me to see what he was put through, even though Figol spoke of it as being his destiny.

To watch your son die is a painful thing.

Years have come and gone, and Figol, though he always claimed Aedon to be no more than a tool he used had clearly come to care deeply for him. And as his mother once sacrificed herself to bring him into the world, so too did the Eld Mage sacrifice position and power to bring him back to Sosaria. And though many times his feet have trod a path that ended in pain and destruction, always has he been brought back and set down in Aegis by a mage that cannot bring himself to let his son go.

And now, this other one calls to me an asks that I speak with her. I know what it is she will ask of me, for in truth I have hovered near and kept a close watch on my child. And though Figol might not approve of what I will do, has he not done just as much in the past for the sake of this one?

(hovering close to the building, Nemira whispers into the shadows her answer to the woman’s entreat.)


Child of darkness, woman of fire, I will meet with thee on the third night of the new month. There I shall consider your words and if I deem them worthy, will grant thee my boon.