The frigid cold felt even harsher than usual that terrible night. The five Warriors and their two surviving Scion companions huddled as close as they could in the corner of Camp Dragonhead’s Intercessory. Beds were still being prepared for the survivors of the Bloody Banquet, and in the meantime they had nothing but their thoughts and each other to keep them company.
Emotions were heavily divided among the group. Some felt guilt at their own unintentional contributions to the tragedy. Some, rage at how unjust the situation was and how public perception had been so effortlessly turned against them after all they had done for the realm. Some, a deep concern for their fellows, one Lalafellin woman taking it upon herself to make runs for hot drinks to stave off the cold.
One Miqo’te felt naught but despair and grief. Everything had fallen apart for her, one after another, in recent days.
The elder wyrm had sealed her Blessing of Light along with the rest of the Warriors. A new friend had died right in front of her to save her from an Ascian. Her new love had sealed himself away for potentially lifetimes within the Crystal Tower which ever loomed over the Scions’ headquarters, mocking her. The Sultana perished directly in front of her. Worst of all, the tragic news she received from Tataru upon their reunion in Camp Dragonhead. Her two younger sisters, both members of the Crystal Braves to follow in Satora’s “heroic” footsteps, were caught in the betrayal. In the chaos, Poki gave her life to ensure the youngest daughter of the Lhansi family, Lho, escaped.
Satora’s dear sister, dead. Satora’s dear sister, dead by Satora’s own hand. Or so it felt. Satora may not have dealt the killing blow, but it was their love and respect for Satora that led Poki and Lho to join the Crystal Braves and fall into harm’s way.
And in the midst of all this, not one of them had heard the voice of Hydaelyn. Bereft of guidance, it was too much to bear.
All she could do was sob.
Tataru looked upon the sight and felt… not pity, this was not a pitiable situation, but something close to it. An empathy, a desire to help her friend. Still, she had been the one to deliver the bad news, being one who was there to witness it as Poki had saved her life as well. It would not do for her to be the one to try to comfort the grief-stricken Keeper. Looking around, she found Ty’at to be in relatively stable state emotionally-speaking, and so she approached.
“Ty’at, can you please lend Satora an ear? I know we are all struggling right now, but the news I had to deliver was particularly upsetting for her. I think she needs a friend.”
Nodding, Ty’at shifted through the pile of Scions to sit near Satora. “You know, friend,” she began, “I have lost family myself. My family, we are hunters in our home of Yak T’el. The beasts we hunt are those who threaten the safety of our village, and so naturally sometimes we come back injured.” She sighed, closing her eyes solemnly at the memory.
“Not everyone survives. I once had a brother, Rruk, who saw that I was limping behind from a nasty blow. He always looked out for us. For me. So he came back to check on me and noticed movement in the bushes. He went to investigate. As it happens, a pack of Br’aax had caught the scent of blood from our hunt and witnessed me limping behind.” A gulp. “He was already weak from the Vidraal we fought, so while he was able to kill the Br’aax, it inflicted a nasty wound on his stomach. It became infected and we eventually lost him. He gave his life to protect me. He was an honorable man.”
Satora seemed despondent, the only indication she was listening being a flick of her ears in Ty’at’s direction. “I do not know your sister, your Poki. But from what Tataru has told us, she fought honorably. She fought to protect others that they might live, even at the cost of her own life. I would have liked to know her. I am sad that she did not survive. Might you tell me about her? We have time, and I am here to listen. Please, should it not trouble you too greatly, tell me of your honorable sister.”
Satora was staring at her Xbr’aali companion. The tears had intensified, but there was a hint of appreciation to them. “I… thank you. Poki was… she and Lho were inseparable.”
The two spoke well into the night. Slowly, Satora’s tears turned to laughter, to wistful sighs as she reminisced about her late, beloved sister. In time, the two drifted to sleep on the floor, not noticing that everyone else had migrated to the beds for the last proper rest they would have for some time.
The loss hurt. But for now, Satora would remember.
