It was a cool autumn day, nearly chilly yet not quite so. Grey clouds covered the skies, seemingly in an attempt to shroud the world in darkness, but the bright sun shone through nonetheless, granting the world not only light, but a sense of peace.

Occasionally, the sun would peek through the gaps in the clouds, granting the world a bit of warmth. A cold breeze blew on occasion, but Amara didn’t mind. It was weather like this that she loved the most, as it truly made her genuinely happy.

Unfortunately, on this day, she had not the luxury to pause and enjoy the weather, currently deeply and rather intimately involved with a pile of books.

If this was even just a mere thirty years ago, she never would have imagined herself to be so deeply involved with such literature. The old her had deemed them as boring, and therefore, trash. It was why they had been piled so haphazardly in the corner of her old library room.

Wsh! Thwump! ~

The rustling sounds of pages sounded in the air along with a few loud thumps following directly after as several books flew over the young elf’s shoulder, landing in a messy pile outside of the window.

The sound continued on for a good few minutes as the pile of books in her room was reduced, being transferred outside.

“Hup! Finally done!” Amara gleefully shouted before mantling over the windowsill, landing right beside the pile of books. Her ears moved slightly, seemingly in excitement. “Surely, this time… Surely…”

Her movements were swift and rough, completely rushed, as she quickly surveyed the small mountain of books beside her.

The books were of all sorts of different lengths and sizes, meant for both the young and the old, but interestingly enough, they all seemed to share a similar trait, being their titles. While they were of many different languages, they always shared a common word between them, even with their many variations.

“It was this one!”

From among the pile of books, her pale white hand shot up, holding onto a rather thin little booklet. Seemingly shining in the air, its golden coloured title stood out to the world.

The Eternal Bard’s Salvation 

 “Or… was it this one?” Muttering to herself, Amara rubbed her chin, a habit not befitting her youthful appearance, before shaking her head slightly.

“That’s more than enough, Ama.”

Before she could continue her search, though, a deep and gruff voice interrupted her.

“I sincerely doubt you’ll find anything of any real use in those old and dusty texts.”

“…” But in response, she only stared ahead, a firm frown appearing on her face.

Ahead of her, near the edge of the hill their house was on, sat a man in a wheelchair. From the back, he looked quite small, but one could see faint traces of scars visible on the outline of his neck, a testament to the life he had endured until then.

“You know this better than I, Ama. Even if any of those tales are true, who knows how old they are by now. You can’t trust anything inside of them.”

“…” Still she stared, seemingly unwavering, but if you were to look closely, you would realize that her eyes were trembling slightly.

“What’s wrong?”

The gruff voice paused for a moment before tilting his head, turning around in his seat to reveal the wizened face of a very, very old man.

“Hahaha!” Seeing her face, the old man broke out into a cheerful laughter. “We’ve been searching for so long, Ama. Perhaps it’s true, Immortality is a myth.”

Upon hearing the laughter that went along with his words, Amara’s face quickly turned red as her cheeks puffed up like a balloon, in an absolutely furious pout.

“Shut up! Idiot Cyril, stop laughing!” Throwing the booklet onto the ground, she stomped her feet in place, in an effort to showcase her sheer rage. “You know you can’t say that!”

“I’m sorry, Ama. I didn’t mean it.” The old man, Cyril, upon seeing the tears welling up in her eyes, quickly raised his hands in defeat. “I was just teasing you. Come!”

“It’s not funny…” Sniffling, the young lady walked towards the old man, hugging his head in her arms.

“I know. To be honest, I wouldn’t find it funny either if I was in your position, but I’m not, so I’m indeed finding this quite enjoyable. Heh.”

The short chuckle earned him a harsh pinch to his cheeks – of which he could barely feel due to his wizened skin, but would never reveal that – to which he cried out in pain.

“Argh!”

“…” Quickly releasing his cheek, the young lady stared at him in silence, still sniffling. Her long ears drooped down slightly from their posts, an obvious sign to Cyril of the sadness she was feeling.

Seeing this look, Cyril swiftly stopped his jests, a stifling feeling filling his heart.

“Come on now, Ama, don’t look at me like that. It’s just that we’ve been searching for five whole years now, but we haven’t found even a single trace of this so-called immortality. Can’t we just… go back home? And live with each other in joy, like we used to?”

Wiping away the moisture in her eyes, Amara looked down in silence.

In her eyes, Cyril could never miss any emotions. What he saw was frustration, sorrow, despair, desperation, fear, and a deep, deep pain. Feeling a lump in his throat, he shook his head quickly to rid himself of it. He was never able to deny her, especially not now, even despite his desire.

“Actually, I feel like I can hold on for a lot longer for some reason.” Rolling up his sleeve, the old man flexed his right arm, showcasing solid muscles even despite his age.

Seeing this, Amara smiled slightly, her drooping ears raising slightly. She knew they were words of comfort, but they still made her feel better.

Moving behind him, she began pushing the wheelchair through the hill, heading into her old property home.

“Please, Cyril, just a bit longer. We’ve almost reached my hometown, my clan will surely have the answers we seek.”

Silent, Cyril nodded his head, smiling warmly at her.

“Just… a bit longer…”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

Far above the land of Horesh, in a large stone tower connected to a large stone keep, Amara sat silently, the breeze blowing her hair gently. The tower was something like a gazebo or pavilion, extending outwards to cover an entire house’s worth of space, despite being supported by only one meagre pillar.

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There were plenty of chairs sitting around, of all different sorts, but the young elf didn’t care. She sat at the very fringe of the tower, her legs dangling off in a manner that seemed almost precarious, but she paid it no mind.

A little ways behind her, in two of the most comfortable chairs of the tower, sat two old men. The closest to Amara was Cyril, and beside him was his younger brother, the Lord of House Varley, Casper von Varley.

“I never thought I’d have come back here. I truly believed that I would have died before being able to see this place again.” Cyril’s voice was rough, but he spoke in a warm tone. A smile was on his face as he seemingly reminisced, rubbing his chin in thought.

“…” Casper was seemingly silent, but he frowned almost imperceptibly.

“Are you glad to be back, Cyril?”

In the air, Amara’s voice rang out as if a wind chime, sounding out into the air. She leaned back on her arms, breathing in deeply as she took in the wonderous sights in the air. The far off mountains in the distance, the large town directly down below, so far that the people almost looked like ants, and the clouds that seemed so close that if she reached out she could grab them. She had only been here several times before, but it was truly one of her favourite experiences.  

“Honestly?” Leaning back into his chair, Cyril breathed a sigh of relaxation, easing his straightened back. “I didn’t think I would be, but now that I’m here, I truly am. I missed this place.”

“…” Hearing his words, Casper’s frown eased up immediately, replaced by an almost imperceptible smile.

The three were silent for a while, enjoying the breeze, before his voice gently broke the silence.

“Do you… forgive me, big brother?” Casper’s voice was hoarse and rough, almost carried away by the wind, as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time. “Do you forgive me, and our father?”

“Hm? Of course I do little Casper. Why, haven’t you asked me this three times already? Hahaha!”

“Yes… I have… I just… wanted to make sure.” His facial expressions easing up further, Casper nodded in content. “Perhaps I am asking in father’s stead. He… would have been relieved to hear it, if he was still alive.”

Listening to the conversation behind her, a frown appeared on Amara’s face. Usually, people would use terms such as “if he was still with us”, or “if he was still here”. It was a strange habit of sorts that she had noticed, coming from those… more mature people. The closer they came to what they perceived as their inevitable deaths, the more rough they became with their speech towards death. It was crude, almost callous.

“Did he ever say anything about me? Before he died? I don’t think I’ve ever had the opportunity to ask after his passing.”

“He did… yes. I could see it in his eyes at the time, and I could tell that it was one of, if not his largest, regret in life.” His eyes glazing over, Casper slipped into a deep thought. “He was grateful to you, big brother, as we all are. It was you, with your encompassing love, that broke the damned House Varley law. As you know, he was angry for a time, but he eventually learned his lesson, as did I.”

“You’re making these old cheeks blush, Casper. Don’t you have any shame?” While he seemed to be admonishing his younger brother, Cyril was evidently greatly enjoying the praise, evident in his tone, to which Amara only gently rolled her eyes.

“…”

Taking the entire situation seriously, however, Casper stared directly at Cyril with his murky eyes. His face was almost emotionless, but Cyril, with his knowledge of his younger brother, could always see the small frown on his face.

“I… I am glad that you have come here one final time, my dearly beloved brother, before one of us passed. I could have the chance to once again, with all my heart, apologize.”

A cool breeze blew through the air as the setting sun hung on the horizon, shining a golden light onto the faces of the three.

“I am sorry for running you out, during that time, and taking your position as the rightful heir to House Varley. It may have been House Varley law, but that is no excuse for my actions…” Turning his gaze away, the old man stared beyond the horizons, seemingly beyond the sky. “…and I am sorry to say that I do not regret my actions, despite your love and kindness.”

Tilting his head, Cyril observed his brothers face from the side. The wrinkles on his face - which weren’t nearly as pronounced the last time he had saw him - made his expression much harder to observe from the side, but Cyril could tell that he felt sadness and guilt.

“I forgive you, Casper, for betraying my trust. To be honest, there’s not much to forgive. If you hadn’t pushed me out, I never would have found Amara. I also forgive you for not regretting it, as I truly do understand. If you had regretted it, you would never have made such a happy family in House Varley. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“…” Slowly nodding in response, Casper took a deep breath before continuing. “Thank you, big brother. Thank you for forgiving me, and thank you for not taking the opportunity to grab revenge, despite having every right and the means to do so.”

“I’m truly glad we could do this again, before I ended up kicking the bucket, heh.” Chuckling, Cyril gave his younger brother a warm smile.

The two relaxed in silence, the tension between the two brothers having been broken. Casper’s facial expressions even relaxed to the point that his smile was visible on his face. A gentle breeze blew peacefully, and everything was perfect and satisfactory, except, it wasn’t.

“Shut up. You won’t die, not if I can help it…”

A sharp voice broke the atmosphere, originating from Amara at the edge of the tower.

Her back was turned towards Cyril, so he couldn’t see her face, but the faint quivering of her ears told him all he needed to know.

“Don’t go being all content on your own… I refuse to allow it…” The silence continued for a while before a sniffle broke the atmosphere. “Didn’t you promise me…”

In truth, Cyril knew that coming here would affect Amara, and it was something that she knew herself, despite not being able to help it.

Gazing at her back, and listening to her voice, many memories ran through Cyril’s head as he sighed gently. Meeting and reconciling once again was only one of the reasons he had come back here, in fact, it wasn’t even the main reason. It was in an attempt to make her understand.

Elves, despite their seemingly endless wisdom and foresight, were actually quite slow to properly understand. This was something that Cyril, as a companion to an elf for his entire life, understood well. In short, they matured quite slowly.

Take “never taking things for granted”, as an example. They could understand the general concept, but only thorough experience would engrain the lesson on their hearts. It was why Amara had not noticed Cyril’s creeping age until it was almost too late.

It was why he understood best of all, even more than her.

“I do indeed remember that promise, Ama. In fact, I remember it like it was just yesterday. I can vividly recall the lack of understanding on your face, hahaha.”

Casper, despite not knowing what they were talking about, merely listened in silence.

It was an understanding that Cyril had come to quite quickly early on in his life, leading to a promise that he had made as a hot-blooded youth. Gazing at her small back reminded him of that time, the time he realized the sheer difference between their lifespans.

It was a small argument that had crept up between them in one of the skirmishes between the Petra Kingdom, and the Molinara Kingdom.

Desiring to make a contribution to her clan, Amara had wanted to risk going to the battlefield personally to record it in depth. Cyril, realizing the danger, adamantly refused. This ended up in them staying at their home in silence. Amara, angry at him, ended up ignoring him for two whole months.

Two entire months!

He had broken down into tears after she began speaking to him again, and he remembered the shock on her face due to it, and the question that came along with it.

“Wasn’t it just two months?”

The understanding rapidly came as he lay in her arms. Despite their appearances being similar, their lives would never be. Her life was long, seemingly endless, and he would one day shrivel up and die, returning to the earth.

He remembered the blood rushing through his veins at the thought of it, as he stood up in anger.

“I swear, I’ll outlive you. I’ll live until the rivers dry up, until I see you die first.”

He had wanted to outlive her to never make her sad, to never see a sad look on her face. As he aged, though, his thoughts quickly changed. It was a promise made in what he considered naivety. It wasn’t the promise he considered naivety, but that this was an elf he was speaking to, and he was merely a human.

Her life would be long, longer than he could possibly comprehend, and he believed himself a mere footnote, a stream in the vast river that would be her life.

Despite all of this, though, he was underestimating Amara. She had long understood all of his considerations, more so than he could understand.

“Don’t die, promise me you won’t.”

“…I’ll try, I promise.”

It was there that the two stared at each other in silence. One’s eyes full of sorrow, and the other’s full of determination.

Fwsh!

The silence was quickly interrupted as the loud noise of wind whistled against the stone walls of the tower. A large and youthful man swung himself over the edge of the tower, behind the two old men.

“Father! I heard Uncle Cyril was up here, I’m here to meet him!”

His loud voice boomed out, breaking any semblance of peace on the tower. Casper, realizing the emotions between the two had been stifled, glared at the newcomer behind him.

“You dolt! Don’t you have any semblance of manners?!”

His ramblings and lecturing continued like a flying arrow, pushing the man to his knees as an apologetic yet wronged look appeared on his face.

As the lecturing continued behind them, Amara and Cyril broke their gazes, preparing to leave.

“It’s fine Casper, it’s about time we left anyway.” Amara spoke first, nodding towards the old man.

She stood up, heading towards Cyril to help him into his wheelchair.

“..? I understand.” A surprised look appeared on the old man’s face before being replaced by a look of understanding. “What are you standing there for, you dolt?! Help me up!”

“H-huh? Already? But we haven’t even had the chance to speak!” The man began complaining, but stood up nevertheless, heading towards his father.

“You can catch up on the way! We need to prepare supplies for our family. Food, wagons, our best horses, and a load of money.”

Stretching his back, Casper began lecturing his son once again, following alongside Amara as she watched.

“It’s past time we continued on, to the next location. In search of the everlasting immortality.”