The further they got from the rest of the Kandumes, the cooler the weather became. With the humid climate behind them, they no longer had to deal with the mosquitoes. Now, insect buzzing no longer lulled him to sleep. Instead, the steady drum of hooves kicking up dust on the trail soothed the Hicaron prince. They all felt so tired from the battles and endless travel that it became a real problem for men to fall off their saddles in exhaustion. So, they partnered up with others, one soldier looking out for another and receiving the same favor in return.
Unfortunately for Novem, Simrin was his partner and oblivious to his brother half the time. Simrin prattled on and on about everything and nothing. Novem felt that could be contributing more to his sleepiness than the horses.
He slapped his cheeks a little to wake up. Still, he remained drowsy, and soon his thoughts turned to Esamne. He thought of her long, copper hair hanging down her back like a silk flag. He remembered her strawberry lips and delightful freckles. He ruminated on the honey eyes that he would happily drown in. Naturally, her long legs and perfect skin came after that. Once again, he relived their night of passion, so right, so perfect. He touched the letter she sent him months ago, which he kept tucked against chest under his tunic and armor. One day, she would marry him. He must believe that when everything seemed this dark.
Something ahead caused their caravan to come to an abrupt stop, shocking Novem out of his daydream. Two figures in the distance approached them. Everyone prepared for an attack, but Novem didn't see why they should worry about two men on foot. Even if they were battle mages, they could quickly take them down. They also approached, appearing tired and dehydrated.
"I'm going to see what this is about," Novem said to Simrin.
"I'll come with you," his brother replied, trying to be a good partner.
As they got nearer to the men, one looked like he might be Kandumes himself. The other one looked like some kind of royal servant or assistant. The odd pair seemed remarkably happy to see them.
"Travelers, are you lost?" Novem asked them, curious as to what their story must be.
"I don't think so anymore," the one dressed in fancy clothing said, smiling broadly. "Tell me, where do these troops hail from?"
"Why do you want to know?" Simrin asked with suspicion.
"We hope we're talking to friends," the one that looked very much like the Kandumes answered. "That looks like a Kandum flag you're flying."
"It is." Novem nodded. "We are here on order from King Retam and King Parvon."
"Blessed Pecu!" the well-dressed man cried happily. "Any chance one of King Parvon's brothers is with you?"
Novem and Simrin looked at each other. What could these men want? People never asked to talk to them. Simrin became more skeptical, and Novem became more intrigued.
"Yes, why do you ask?" Novem inquired.
"I have a letter from Queen Esamne for Prince Novem," the well-dressed man said.
A tear of relief rolled down Novem's cheek. She sent someone all the way here to give him a letter. Simrin grabbed Novem's shoulders in a brotherly embrace.
"This man crying here in front of you," Simrin said. "He's the person you've been looking for."
"I'm sorry…" the messenger said, holding out the letter. "Would you like to read this alone?"
Novem nodded, getting off his horse. He took the letter from the man and walked some distance away. He didn't know why he expected it to smell like her. It smelled like Serenchea, which didn't surprise him. From her handwriting, he could tell she felt nervous, and his elation descended into concern.
He read the words and reread them. Farek Malphesent had fled. He no longer posed a threat, but the Arch Dukes wouldn't give Esamne the crown without a husband. If she became the acting ruler, she could end the war forever. She begged him to come back. He tucked the message under his tunic with the other letter he kept there, and walked back to the messengers.
"Friends, what are your names?" he asked.
"I am Terald," the well-dressed one answered, "and he goes by Hat."
"Hat?" Simrin asked. "That's your name?"
"No," Hat answered, smiling, "but that's what you can call me."
"Simrin," Novem said, "we need to make camp early. I need to discuss some things with you and Parvon."
"I see." Simrin nodded. "I suppose we will be inviting Hat and Terald to join us. They look like they could use some food, water, and rest."
"You have no idea," Terald replied, relief in his tone.
The Kandumes felt more than happy to call an end to the day's travels. They set up their tents and tethered their horses. The cook put a pot of root vegetables over the cauldron to boil for dinner. Parvon, Novem, and Simrin sat with Queen Esamne's messengers by an outcropping of rocks, away from the rest. They watched the two men gulp greedily from the water bladders they offered them. Novem didn't know how long they traveled, but they looked like they wouldn't have made it more than a few days more.
"Brothers," Novem said, after a sigh, "these gentlemen were sent into harm's way to give me a message that could mean the end of this war forever."
"Truly?" Parvon asked, looking interested. "Tell me more."
"Malphesent is gone, but Esamne can't rule without a husband," Novem told his brothers. "The Arch Dukes decided that she can't hold her coronation unless a King Consort guides her."
"She means to have you go back to Pescel, then?" Parvon asked, a concerned look on his face. "We really need you here."
"No," Simrin said, shaking his head, "we really need him there. Pescel will withdraw their troops if the King Consort is Hicarean."
"That's what Queen Esamne intends," Terald interjected. "She's been fighting against this war for as long as she can on her own. She needs support."
"I'm one man, brothers," Novem said, tears stinging at his eyes. "There's not that much I can do here, but over there, I could bring us our home back without any more bloodshed or magical attacks."
The brothers recalled the haunting screams and searing pain of these attacks. Novem himself suffered multiple magical attacks in the last battle, but Cefa's healing spell saved him each time. He hid his welts well under his tunic and away from Eya's worried gaze. The last battle had been bleak, and it was only going to get harder from here.
"Then, we must help you go," Parvon said, coming out of a solemn pause and then turned toward Terald and Hat. "How far of a journey is it to your ship?"
"It took us nearly three days on foot," Hat answered. "I hate to ask, but if we could have just two horses and maybe some blankets…"
"I will join you," Simrin interjected. "We'll bring a couple of camp kits, my horse and Novem's horse. I'll take you to where you need to go and rendezvous with Parvon."
"What about the harbor?" Parvon asked.
"I'll be able to join you in time," Simrin answered. "If we leave tonight, that is. It's in roughly the same direction."
"You'll need a map," Parvon grumbled, but he already sided with his brothers on the issue.
Novem decided to saddle with Simrin, while Terald and Hat would ride together. The messengers still looked exhausted, but they both firmly believed that leaving as fast as possible was the best plan. After packing, Novem and Parvon shared a tearful embrace.
"Forget everything I ever said," Parvon whispered to his brother. "Lead with your heart, not with your head."
Novem pulled back to look at his brother, the King of Hicares, with an astonished expression. Parvon laughed a little.
"What?" Parvon asked. "I can't admit when I'm wrong?"
"Well..." Novem replied, "no."
"We've spent a lot of time with the Duke of Rodovan," Parvon explained after letting out a good chuckle. "I noticed a lot of similarities between him and me, much of it hard to accept. I don't want to be so set in my ways that I can't be a better person."
"I wish I weren't saying goodbye, now," Novem said.
"Stop lying," Parvon admonished. "Go get married and make babies I can visit."
"All right, I will!" Novem exclaimed with a broad smile and a hearty laugh.
The sun slipped just over the horizon when they reached a full gallop in the direction of the cave, and they continued riding for several hours more. When they could no longer continue, they set up tents and slept. Novem felt so restless that he kept waking up with thoughts of seeing Esamne again.
Novem woke with the sun, eager to ride again. He roused the rest of them, and they made their way to the coastal cavern. Somehow, the closer they got to their destination, the slower each second became. Still, they made it before noon. Standing tall on the cliffside, Hat took out a red flag from under his shirt and waved it at a distant cutter, idling on the waves. Once they saw a red flag rise from its mast, they lowered themselves down a hole into the cavern below and waited.
When the rowboat arrived, Novem took a moment to say goodbye to Simrin. He found this even more difficult than when he parted from Parvon. They loved their older brother, but there was always a little separation since Parvon was the heir. Simrin acted as his partner in crime their entire childhoods. This was the first time in their lives that they would ever be apart.
"I love you," Novem choked out, holding his brother close to him, tears rolling down his cheeks.
"Love you too, crybaby," Simrin said before letting out a half-sob, half-chuckle.
Novem got his own room on the smuggler's ship, to Terald and Hat's relief. As small as his room looked, he could see why. Once again, he crossed the Green Sea, but this time it was towards Pescel. He couldn't tell if sea sickness or nerves bothered him, but he felt ill with every bob of the ship. Playing cards with Terald and Hat became his only past time, and he never won a single hand.
"My apologies," Terald said and laughed. "I was taught by the incomparable Lady Pleffort. Hat here, well, no one knows anything about him. So, your guess is as good as mine."
"Let's just say that I found a way to cheat the rich and decided to work very hard at perfecting it," Hat replied.
Novem noticed a spark between the two right away. Yet, these two had more than an attraction between them. Their bond only made him think more about Esamne. He wondered if it would feel the same as it did before. He waited for her, but what if his memories exaggerated their connection?
However, when they arrived at the small seaside of Pecuna, greeted personally by Lady Pleffort, more memories came rushing in. He remembered the tenderness he felt for Esamne, for her situation. He remembered the fear on her face when she talked about Farek.
"Terald!" Lady Pleffort exclaimed in her soft, sultry voice, "Prince Novem! At last! And who is this?"
"I go by Hat," Hat answered, bowing with great charm. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Pleffort. Your husband talked about you being beautiful, but I had no idea."
"Yes," Lady Pleffort's eyes lowered, "Tevin did love to brag."
"What happened to Lord Pleffort?" Novem whispered to Terald.
"Farek Malphesent murdered him during his escape," Terald whispered back.
"One of you stinks of war, and two of you stink of Serenchea," Lady Pleffort said with some forced cheeriness. "You all will need a bath immediately. Then, I think you should all eat some real food."
They piled into a carriage with Lady Pleffort, who gazed at Novem thoughtfully. It made him a little uncomfortable. Just as he was about to ask if she was feeling alright, she spoke up herself.
"It's so odd having you here," Lady Pleffort said, shaking her head. "You look so much like your sister, and most of my memories involve her being here. How is she?"
"Well..." Novem thought about that a moment, knowing that there wasn't a simple answer. "She is fighting in the middle of this war, but she seems more confident and has become a capable warrior. She's also betrothed to the Duke of Rodovan's son."
Mentally, Novem added "again" to the end of his last statement.
Lady Pleffort smiled and turned to look out the window.
He followed her gaze and saw her manor. It was an inviting home with enviable gardens, not as austere as a castle or rugged as a camp tent. The nearer they drew to it, the more excited he got thinking of her offer of a bath and a meal.
A group of servants ushered them in. A tall, thin woman with brown hair greying at the temples looked especially interested in Novem. He supposed that she also must have known Eya. Looking around, he thought about what life would be like in this warm, loving environment. Eya probably thought her entire family was gone forever. Had this been her family for a time? He hoped that she found some comfort here because there hadn't been much comfort for her since. The tall woman escorted Novem to a room.
"This was the Dowager Pleffort's suite when she was alive," she said. "I hope that it will meet your needs. It has its own bathtub next to a fireplace. The bath should still be hot, and a servant can light the fire upon request."
"It's a warm night," Novem said. "I don't think a fire will be necessary. I'm grateful to be given such a nice room."
"I will leave you to it, then," the woman said with a nod.
"Madam, what's your name?" Novem asked.
"I'm Sidra, the housekeeper," the woman answered.
"Did you know my sister Eya when she was here?" he asked and watched her face shift from confusion to acknowledgment.
"We knew her as Viya," Sidra said and smiled. "Yes, I knew her as well as most in Pecuna. She stood out."
"I hope in a good way," Novem said through a chuckle. "Can you tell me, was she happy?"
"She mostly was…" Sidra answered. "There was a man who caused problems at one point, but we took care of him. Viya-I mean Eya was a sweet girl, and we all wanted her to be happy."
"Thank you," Novem replied and stepped into his room, warmed by the idea of his sister finding comfort here at one point.
That evening, he took a long hot bath and felt the tensions and layers of dirt from months of trekking around Hicares leave his body. He dressed in the cotton shift left for him on his bed. As simple as the garment seemed, its quality indicated someone made it for royalty. He relished the comfort of its fabric as much as he enjoyed the large meal he ate in private. The combination of a soft bed, comfortable clothing, and a belly full of delicious food ensured that he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. For the first time in months, he slept an entire night, with no dreams or nightmares, waking only when the morning light touched his face.
Soon enough, servants swarmed around him again. They fed him, cleaned him, groomed him, and dressed him. He remembered now what it felt like to be a prince and not just a soldier. When he left his room, he met with Terald, Hat, and Lady Pleffort in the gardens. Everyone looked as well-rested and resplendent as Novem felt.
"That is so much better," Lady Pleffort said, letting out a sigh of relief. "I'm so glad I convinced Esamne not to come here to wait for you. You were all quite a sight."
"When can I see her?" Novem asked, impatient to be at her side.
"I am hoping today. She is staying at her Spring retreat in the mountains beyond. If we leave now, we can make it there by the afternoon.”
Novem looked toward the area where Lady Pleffort pointed. He couldn't help but chuckle at what she considered mountains. They were more like rolling, wooded hills. Still, he couldn't believe how close the woman he loved was and felt like he could leap over those hills right now to be with her.
"Let's go," Novem said. "Now. Let's go."
"I'm glad you're motivated," Lady Pleffort said, "but I need to make sure of one thing before we go any further."
"What?" Novem asked, snapping impatiently. He hadn't left his brothers and come all this way to play games.
"She intends to marry you up there," Lady Pleffort said, a severe expression on her face. "She will need more than a husband, though. She will need you to be her champion. Will you support her, or will you hold her back? Because, once you marry her, you are no longer a Hicarean prince but a Pescelean king. Many will turn to you instead of her. For this to work, you will need to be of one mind with the Queen."
"I would lay down my life for her, if necessary," Novem answered, knowing it was true.
"Don't be too eager to do that. She needs you alive, not dead. Let's all get in the carriage. The servants packed for us all hours ago."
As they traveled up into the winding hills, Novem enjoyed the beauty of this area of Pescel. His experience before had been in The Palace, which looked impressive but didn't give him an idea of the real Pescel. The sea breeze carried the scent of fragrant blooms and salt. It reminded him of Esamne. When they reached the hills' peak, he could see a castle in the distance, just above the treetops. He watched while it grew closer and closer. His mind played one fantasy on a loop, running towards his bride, sweeping her up in his arms, and marching her into a room where he would make love to her for hours.
They arrived with the setting sun. Servants in fancy livery lined up and waited for their arrival. This greeting seemed so far from the one that he imagined that, for a moment, Novem thought Esamne might not even be here. Just as his heart sank, she stepped out of the entrance doors. She looked ethereal, glowing in the red sunlight that receded on the horizon. Her copper hair flickered like a flame in the breeze, contrasting against the gauzy white fabric of her elegant gown. Her honey eyes drank him in and he was only too happy to let her consume him. Novem barely noticed the old priest in dark clothing following her out. He rushed to pull her as close to his body as possible, striving to feel her heartbeat against his. Cupping her face, he looked over every freckle. They seemed even more perfect than he remembered. Tears spilled from his face, mixing with her own.
"I've kept your letters here," he whispered, placing her hand against his heart. "All this time."
"I love you," she responded, and he could feel her heart flutter against him.
"I love you, too," he said, before brushing his lips against hers.
"Let's not waste a moment," the priest interrupted them. "Follow me to the sanctum."
Novem took Esamne by the hand and joined the group walking up the path to a stone chapel shrouded by climbing jasmine and wisteria. There the priest spoke of love and duty. Any thoughts other than his undying loyalty to Esamne escaped Novem's mind. The whole wedding passed by in a blur, all he could see was his love’s face shining on him like the Summer sun. They repeated their vows, they kissed, and they became man and wife. Each of his new wife's kisses felt like the sun shining on the darkest corners of his heart.
The ceremony had been quiet and hopeful, lacking any of the pomp that a royal wedding typically entails. Still, the party sat for a celebratory dinner, during which they gave many toasts and banged on the tables for the newlyweds to kiss. Novem's heart bloomed with joy, loving every moment of the feast. The only thing that day lacked was the presence of his brothers.
He had to admit that he hadn’t known what to expect with Terald and Hat. When they first approached him, he’d found it difficult to trust them. What could two men be doing traveling around a war torn country alone? When he’d seen Esamne’s handwriting on that letter, however, he pushed all his doubts aside. He would risk anything to be by her side again.
Watching Terald and Hat now, he was more than happy that he’d followed them back to Pescel. The two men shared flirtatious glances and giggles. The spark between them was familiar. It felt like the first blush of infatuation he had experienced when he met Esamne. He had been shy at first, which wasn’t how he acted around most women. Her beauty and charm was beyond anything he had ever encountered before. Now, he could kiss her over and over again. Leaving behind their guests and walking up their bed-chamber, Novem planned on doing so much more to his new wife. However, the priest following them there killed some of his enthusiasm for their consummation. Novem remembered how she told him the night she shared her complicated history with Farek Malphesent. They had once been lovers, partially because she didn't want her first time to be under the watchful gaze of a royal witness.
"No need to follow us inside," Novem said to the priest at the door to their bedroom, meaning to protect his wife's modesty.
"Novem," Esamne said, shaking her head, "he has to. Otherwise, no one will take this marriage seriously."
"Are you sure?" he asked, squeezing her hand, and she nodded her head.
Novem wanted to insist, but knew how much of her hopes and dreams hung on the legitimacy of their marriage that day. He opened the room, and the priest followed them in. Esamne turned her back to Novem and pointed at the stays on her back. He untied and loosened them for her, revealing her creamy, freckled skin underneath. She stepped out of her beautiful gown, tall and lean and naked.
He wanted to kiss every inch of her as she helped him undress. The touch of her fingers against his skin as layers of clothing came off sent a thrill through him. He nearly forgot the priest stood in the corner, silently watching. When she took off his tunic, letters fell to the floor. She knelt to collect them, noticing the burn scars on his chest when she got up.
"It's a war," he said, holding her hand to comfort her. "This comes with war."
"We will end this war," she whispered, kissing the scars on his chest. "You really did keep my letters."
"Yes, they gave me a reason to keep going," he said, nodding.
Esamne helped him remove his pants, and they sank into her feather bed. He wanted to pull a blanket over them, but Esamne insisted that the blanket stay off. She wanted there to be no doubt that they consummated their marriage. She wanted the Arch Dukes to be certain Novem was her husband and their King.
As eager as he felt to make love to her, the presence of the priest became more and more uncomfortable. So, he concentrated on making this first time as quick as possible. The sooner the priest didn't need to be there, the sooner he could give Esamne real pleasure.
Once they finished, the priest took a quick look and walked out the door. Novem leaped up to lock it and jumped back into bed.
"Now that he's gone, I can do what I really want to do," Novem whispered to her.
Before she could ask what he wanted to do, he crushed his mouth against hers. They spent hours alternating between exploring each other's bodies and making love. They shared long talks, frequently interrupted by their bodies' insistent urges to join together again. The morning sun glinted on the horizon just when their bodies were ready to rest at last. Their bed became a hot, wet mess, with all its covers lying in a heap on the ground.
"Would you call our marriage consummated, my Queen?" Novem asked her.
"Mmm..." was all she could say in response, as her eyes gave in to their weariness and closed.
He got up to close the curtains. He took in the scenery of rolling hills and wildflowers. Even at this distance, he could hear the waves on the shore echoing around. That mixture of blooms and salt that reminded him so much of Esamne wafted in the air. Pescel's beauty overwhelmed him, and it dawned on him that he belonged here now. He was its King, her King. He shut out the light so that they could sleep and returned to bed.
Novem took a long look at his sleeping bride and breathed in deep. Soon, everything would be right in Telverin, and there would be peace. He would welcome little princes and princesses with his wife, his Queen, his world. Right as the rest of the castle awoke, he shut his sleepy eyes and dreamt of new beginnings and family reunions.
Simrin knew his brothers didn't consider him to be responsible or intelligent, though he didn't mind. The less they expected of him, the easier it was to impress them in the end. It wasn't all that difficult to join Parvon again within the day. He laughed at his brother's astonished face when he drew near.
"Weren't expecting to see me ever again?" Simrin joked.
"Not so soon," Parvon replied. "How was it?"
"Uneventful," Simrin answered, remembering his tearful farewell with Novem.
"You're such a liar." Parvon laughed. "You cried like a baby, didn't you?"
"I just hope Queen Esamne doesn't mind her new husband being a total softy," Simrin said, shaking his head.
The remaining Hicaron princes and their Kandumes troops continued riding towards the harbor, which wasn't too much farther now. They would probably make it in time to camp just out of sight of any approaching ships and attack the moment the Pesceleans arrived. Simrin wished they didn't have to do this. It felt unnecessary. Novem would end this war soon. What was the point of more bloodshed?
Simrin had never cared for violence or any conflict at all for that matter. He preferred to de-escalate things with a joke or friendly smile. Novem was more like him in that way, but not to his extent. Parvon, however, held firm to the idea of black and white. You were either right or wrong. You were either an ally or an enemy. You were either at peace or war. Right now, they were at war, and that meant fighting until there was an end to it.
He found it difficult to keep his usual lighthearted demeanor. In truth, Simrin's jovial nature acted as a mask. Deep down, he felt a great deal of pain. He was the youngest son, the least appreciated son. He offered nothing to advance Hicares, except as support for those around him. No one adored him as much as Novem nor respected him as much as Parvon. He wasn't a beautiful woman like Eya. He was the funny one. Yet, he loved and lost, pondered serious matters, and witnessed countless deaths.
Lately, his mind played the terror of battle on a loop. The shrills scream of those attacked by magical energy echoed forever in his thoughts. Purple welts and oozing sores were the backdrops for all of his passing thoughts. The battle between Hicares and Pescel had been bloody. This new war involving Kandum was hellish. Still, Simrin kept a smile on his face. It seemed the best thing he could do for everyone around him.
They set up camp when evening approached. They spotted the harbor earlier, and everything was going to plan. As the Kandumes lined up for their boiled vegetables, Parvon and Simrin sat near a fire, contemplating their next steps. Everything felt still, which was unusual being so close to the coast like this. Usually, the zephyrs made it impossible to hold on to anything in this area. This night, the wind felt as somber as their mood. Even the salty air smelled stale, embracing them in a chill that not even their fire could thaw off. Simrin could only assume it was from the emptiness that Novem left behind.
"How many archers do we have?" Parvon asked, chewing on what might have been a potato at one point.
"Novem would know," Simrin sighed. "I should have asked him. I wasn't thinking about that."
"It's fine," Parvon replied, uncharacteristically forgiving of Simrin's mistake. "We will ask around tomorrow. I think that we will need to rely on our archers at first."
"It's hard being away from him," Simrin admitted.
"It is," Parvon agreed. "When all of this is over, we will have to visit Pescel in the Winters, and they will have to visit Hicares in the Summers. I can't wait to hear kids playing hide and seek in those halls again."
"Who knew you had such a sentimental heart under all that armor?" Simrin asked, and they shared a laugh.
"Speaking of armor," Parvon said, returning to his typical business-first demeanor. "We need to write to King Retam to requisition some replacements. The armorer has worked beyond his limits with the acidic damage those magical attacks create."
"That makes—“ Simrin stopped, snapping his head towards the North.
"What?" Parvon asked, looking in the same direction.
Purple, flaming balls of energy began hurtling toward their camps. Pig-like shrieks of agony followed. The Kandumes scattered from their meal line, running to their weapons. It was dark, though, and they couldn't make out any of their enemies. Panic stirred in Simrin's heart. They didn't know where any of the mages hid. They didn't have a healer. They didn't have Eya. This was an ambush.
"To the North!" Parvon cried out at the top of his lungs, moving his body to block Simrin's.
Another ball of energy came hurtling in their direction, and Parvon took on the full impact of it. Before Simrin's eyes, his brother melted under the hot energy. His shrieks vanished as his throat bubbled away. His eyes stared into Simrin's with a fear never seen there before.
"Parvon!" Simrin cried out, unable to keep his tears from flowing, useless to save his brother.
What had been the King of Hicares was now an unrecognizable corpse on the ground. Soon, Simrin's rage overtook his despair. No longer the peacekeeper reluctant to fight, he grabbed the first sword he could find and ran blind into the darkness North of him. He swung at anyone resembling a Pescelean or a mage.
Simrin fought, unseen in the inky blackness, as heroically as any great warrior. He battled in futility through the enemy line. The small troop of tired Kandumes was no match for the waves of Pesceleans descending upon them. He took hit after hit, becoming more and more surrounded by those he fought. He took down scores of men, but it wasn't nearly enough. He continued swinging, even as his own blood made the hilt of his sword slippery and difficult to grasp. He took a blade into his lung as its owner fell to the ground. He felt searing pain travel up his chest and over to his back. He fought for air, but his collapsing lungs couldn't process it. Blood poured from his mouth as he fell to the ground, his sword dropping from his hands at last.
Flat on his back, he looked up at the stars, the same ones he gazed on every night from his childhood forward, but they were unrecognizable now. He saw a beautiful woman and a terrifying serpent, locked in a lover's embrace. Her face looked so familiar. Why did it look so familiar? With his final breath, he realized why.
"Eya…" he whispered, uttering his last words as a prayer for his sister's safety.