(POV: Envir Inkstrider)

To mourn is a privilege one must lose all to acquire. The words rang in my mind as a bell rings in its tower, loud and clear. I tried to rid myself of them but could not, they had become a part of me. To lose them would be to lose a part of myself. Though the dead might mourn, the living would never know true sadness. I did not know why the words affected me as they did, but I felt too tired to think. Another set of words rang in my head, to rejoice is to gain all that you wish for. The voice which said the words sounded wistful, almost sad, but in truth, I believe, It sounded like death.

To mourn is a privilege one must lose all to acquire, to rejoice is to gain all that you wish for. The voice repeated, the words echoing again and again. They developed a rhythm, going faster every turn until it was too much to bear. I screamed, as if trying to drown out the voice, but it just got louder, I screamed and screamed till no sound came from my throat. The voice got louder and faster and then, abruptly, stopped. I breathed a sigh of relief, and looked up to the void that was the sky, reached up with my hand, as if trying to lift the black veil that shrouded the world in darkness and then, promptly, collapsed onto the blood drenched ground.

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(POV change: Arniseneia Narvis)

Arni’s father had loved to roam in the forest. But that had been before one of the sequestered had touched him, before his body had turned into mist, forever drifting through the forest. Once, he had roamed, hunting the dangers that lurked within the forest. Now, he drifted, his form a wisp of the mighty body he once had.

Standing before his grave, she drew out his sword from its scabbard. She mumbled the words of the oath her father had spoken before her, "As I offer the blood in my veins, so do I accept the steel from yours," she whispered, her voice trembling yet resolute. "As my blood keeps your blade sharp, so may your steel grant me the strength to cleanse this land of evil. Thus, I bind myself to you until my last breath or your blade shatters."

Saying the pledge, she sliced her palm, sealing it. The runes on the sword flared with a faint blue light, clearing the mist from around her. Tilting her hand, she let some blood drop on her father’s grave, as if to seal another pledge, a pledge to fulfil her father’s last wish, a faded’s last wish.