– One excerpt in a compilation of many recordings of the Thaliondor brothers and what occurred to, by, and between them during the Age of the Obsidian Throne. –

“They say that long ago there was a great battle fought here between seven different armies at once,” said Vínaris. “They say that it was so fierce and bloody that only a few knights remained in the end. They say that the blood of countless men watered the ground that day and that is why the grasses now grow red.”

“Is that tale true?” Gildran asked, walking alongside Vínaris, shortening his usually-long strides to match her short, stately ones. She looked up at him, silver eyes eerily catching the sunlight and reflecting it back in fiery hues.

“Who can tell?” She answered. “It was so long ago. But it is a tale recorded in our archives, and we Ciphers strive to always scribe the whole truth. That is why we are a neutral party and respected in all thirteen realms.”

“They all trust you to record the whole story,” Gil thought aloud. Vínaris gave him a nod, a small smile curving her perfect lips.

“You are correct, Gildran eldn Thaliondor.” She replied. He smiled, pleased at her praise.

“How did you become a Cipher, Vínaris?” Gil dared to ask. Vír paused in her walk, looking out at the horizon of red cliffs as she contemplated. Gil stayed silent, letting her take her time, as the breeze swished the ankle-high red grasses against their legs.

“You know that it is something we choose to do once we become of age, understanding the consequences.” She said at last.

Gil nodded.

“And that we forsake all family, all Houses, all loyalty, all love.”

Gildran nodded again.

“And that once we are Ciphers we can choose to return to our old lives, but the decision can be made only once. And even when we return, it is often to strained relationships.”

Gil nodded a third time. Vír looked up at him and a slight smirk curved her perfect lips.

“You ask me how I became a Cipher, Gildran, but methinks the question you ought be asking is not ‘how’, but ‘why’.”

Gildran smiled, amused. “Alright.” He said. “Why did you become a Cipher?”

“Ah,” Vínaris said, letting loose a sigh. “Now, there is a different question entirely.” She became lost in thought once more, gazing at the horizon. Then she spoke.

“I will answer both questions, hopefully to your satisfaction, Gildran eldn Thaliondor. The process of becoming a Cipher is long and hard. You are trained to travel, to fight, to exist. You are molded into a watcher, a shadow, a mere resemblance of what you once were. You forsake your name, your family, your House. You walk away from it all and you don’t look back. At first, you don’t look back because it hurts too much. Then, you don’t look back because there is no reason to. The you you were then is gone now, and only the Cipher remains. There is nothing else for you. This is the unspoken law we live by, and it is only broken occasionally.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“As for the why,” she sighed again. “Well, because history is a precious thing, Gildran. It is to be prized even above Lorenium. You may have Lorenium, but you may also have ignorance and conflict as well. But with history, you have knowledge of past mistakes and a chance to learn from them. Our task is to record it all. The details. The skirmishes. The squabbles. The betrayals, the assassinations, and the secret conspiracies. We record and we do not judge or condemn… I saw Eldragor begin down his dark path long ago, even before he and I had grown out of our youth. I read the histories and saw where this could all end. I became a Cipher, so that I might help continue the histories and perhaps prevent the tragedies that occur around the Obsidian Throne.” She turned to meet his eyes. “Alas, lasting peace was not to be. That my cousin found the Obsidian Throne is no accident. But nothing I could do could prevent this.” She looked away. “I became a Cipher because I wanted to help, teach, and protect. Now I remain as a Cipher because there is nothing else left for me.”

Gildran reached for her hand, and serene silver eyes met a gaze of pale gold. “What if… there were something, Vír?” He asked softly. She smiled, silver eyes sparkling in the sun. The red grasses swished softly in the breeze.

“Unless you could find a very good reason for me to forsake my calling as a Cipher, Gildran, then I don’t think there is.”

“I-I would like to give you a very good reason.” He said earnestly. “Would– would you come back to this life… for me? When I’m with you, I– I don’t feel so… chained. Like a captive. Eldragor’s voice– and the other voices too– they’re not so loud, not so demanding. When I’m with you… I feel almost… sane. Free.”

Vínaris regarded him for a moment, smiling, silver eyes sparkling. “I think…” She began. “I think… that I would come back… for you, Gil.”

“I– I love you.” He admitted shyly and a bit ashamed, his cheeks blushing deep pink. “And… and I– I know I should not. I have no right… not after all I’ve done. You’re too pure, too good. And… I should not because I wish to see you safe from Eldragor.”

Vír laughed, a clear, bright sound. Music to Gildran’s soul.

“I have no fear of Eldragor, Gildran.” She said, smiling. “And I do not wish your guilt to keep you from loving me. I will come back for you, yes.”

Gildran smiled, his cheeks flushing an even deeper pink under his tan. “Thank you.” He whispered, looking at the crimson grasses beneath his feet. Then looked back up into Vír’s silver eyes. Oh, but he loved the sound of her husky voice. That was the voice that drove all the others away. That was the voice that held the fracturing fragments of his sanity together. He cast his gaze to the ground again, ashamed.

“I need you.” He realized in a whisper, with a tinge of anger. “And I hate it.” Vínaris gazed at him, puzzled. Gil lifted his eyes to hers, tortured.

“I don’t– want to love you because I need you.” He explained. “I want to love you just to love you. For who you are. Not for what you can do for me.” He bit off his words tersely.

“Ah, Gildran.” Vír said, smiling once more. She squeezed his hand gently, reassuringly. “I would be a poor choice of bride if I could not help you. The truth is, we need each other. And if there is love mixed with that, then Father Fate has set it to be all the better. True love is shown through sacrifice. Through the un-begrudging giving of oneself. I am prepared for that, Gil. Don’t fret.”

He swallowed hard, and nodded, seeming to wage some inner war. His free hand captured hers, his rough calluses cradling her more delicate calluses.

“I swear to you,” he said, his voice ragged with emotion. “I swear to you, Vír, I will protect you from anyone and anything, until my last breath leaves my lungs and my soul departs for the Starlit Realms. I swear it, Vínaris.”

“Then you love me.” She confirmed softly, smiling. Utterly confident as always. In her confidence he found courage to smile, and dared to hope. In the face of her ever-present joy, even his brokenness faded.

He slipped an arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him. They stood there until the sun set behind the cliffs, watching the breeze stir the ankle-high, crimson blades.

Lingered for as long as they dared on the plain where the red grasses grow.