The harsh wind beat upon the windows of the Longhouse, trying its best to get inside. The roaring fire in the main room did its best to keep the cold at bay. None of the people inside were seated at the stone table, however; the tension in the room was too thick to be able to sit down and relax.

Zairyk stood in front of the hearth, stroking his beard. He had listened to everything Leravacha and the others had to say to him with intent silence, and now it was his turn to speak.

He shook his head. "It is so satisfying to see that your devout reliance on the gods has finally backfired," he said in his gruff voice. He glanced over his broad shoulder at them. "My people have long since abandoned the notion of relying on clerics to heal our maladys. We have not been affected by the gods' absence."

Leravacha scowled. Her hand clenched into a fist."Your people? Your people? You are not one of them, Zairyk! How could you say that? You're a Zindidre-"

"Father cast me out into the desert to die, Lera," Zairyk furiously shot back. "The Vondas found me out there, on the verge of death. Why do you think I sound the way I do? That desert scared me beyond repair. I would have died if not for the Vondas. They took me in and nursed me back to health, and in return, I made them the most powerful and prosperous of the tribes. Father was an idiot. I have every right to disown the Drangok, and every right to call the Vondas my own."

Leravacha's eyes glinted. She took a step closer to her brother. "Don't you dare talk about father like that, Zairyk. You have no right-"

"Oh, shut up." Zairyk cast her a disgusted look. "Father taught you to rely on gods so much, that you won't even take a piss without first consulting your precious Cheimon," he added with a glance at Hakrynsif. "It is your own fault that your people are dying. You never researched the proper medical care to heal illnesses, and now you're paying the price." He looked down at Leravacha and smiled ruefully. "Would father still be proud of his precious little girl, I wonder?"

Before Leravacha could punch her brother in his face, Hakrynsif quickly stepped in. "Please, Zairyk. Be civil for once. We need your help."

Zairyk continued gazing at Leravacha before turning back around to the fire. He paused a moment before saying, "I will agree to help your people. However," he turned around to look at the companions, "I have trouble believing this talk of the Horned One entering the world through the Bay. Sounds to me that the lot of you are high on red powder, and have somehow managed to convince my sister of this nonsense as well." His eyes narrowed.

"Believe me, you have no idea how much I wish I was high, and that all of this was just something dreamt up from an intoxicated mind," Lorthrendel murmured. His eyes suddenly turned sorrowful and filled with regret. He had lost his livelihood because of this whole thing; his seat on the Council was null and void, a seat that he done practically everything to achieve. Now, all that work was for nothing. He could never go back. He sighed and rubbed his temples.

Varenyl muttered something in Sylvari and angrily shook his head.

Isendir, with a glance at Lorthrendel, said, "I know it sounds like something out of an old legend. But everything that your sister told you is true. Surely you have seen the creatures that have come out of the rift-"

"Bah!" Zairyk waved his hand. "Those scaly bastards are nothing more than some breed of the Sylockian people of Yoshinda."

"They are known as Mydrahkgnyrs, and they are not of this world," Lorthrendel shot back, his brow twitching in annoyance. He had already had enough of this man. "Have you ever even seen a Sylockian? They resemble snakes, not dragons, you idiot! They don't even have legs!"

Zairyk's eyes darkened as he looked at the mage. "Last man who spoke to me in that tone of voice didn't live very long afterwards, fairy. I'd advise you to watch your tongue with me. I gave you a pass last time."

Lorthrendel snorted. "Oh, darling, I'd love to see you try to come up against me." His red eyes flashed, almost as if he was inviting the Warlord to make a move. He grinned. "You'd be dead before your blade could even get close to my heart."

"Lorthrendel, for gods' sake." Isendir groaned and massaged his temples. "What did I say about this?"

"You know, Zairyk, I have discovered that it's always the dark and brooding types that have the most pleasant screaming voices," Lorthrendel continued in a lethally soft voice. His scarlet eyes flashed with murderous intent. "I have a strong feeling that you are no different."

"Lorthrendel, I swear to Ophian." Isendir whipped around to the mage. "You-"

"No, let the bastard speak," Zairyk returned, his head cocked to the side. He stalked over to the mage. "You have some nerve, wizard. I've killed my fair share of magic users in my life."

"And I've killed my fair share of barbaric humans in my life as well," Lorthrendel smoothly returned. The blood-lusting glint in his eyes began to fade. He shrugged and leaned back against the wall. "You humans are all the same. Irrational, impulsive and impatient. But come on, Lord Zairyk. You're smarter than this."

Zairyk growled. He let his stare linger on Lorthrendel a moment longer before turning back around to Leravacha. "You heard what I said. I'll help you fight at the Bay. Nothing more, nothing less. I don't believe this bullshit with Vadrioth, so I'm not even going to ask any more questions. I'm tired and thoroughly pissed off." He stalked over to the door. Before he opened it, he glanced behind him and  said, "I truly am sorry about Rilvuldra, Lera. I really am." His eyes softened.

"Thank you, brother." Leravacha ever so slightly bowed her head. "And thank you...for your assistance."

"Hmph." Without another word, the Warlord opened the door and walked out. The fire flickered out for a moment, choked out by the freezing wind, but it did not die.

~-~-~-~

A day later, Lorthrendel stood in front of a mirror, shaving off a light stubble that had grown since the day he had left the Eastlands. He saw Aerysdren walk past the doorway, notice that the fae was in the room, then promptly walk back and stand in front of said doorway.

"Hey, Lorthrendel." The boy shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at Lorthrendel. "You should shave off the mustache," he said when the mage ignored him.

"If I do, I would look like a prepubescent boy, and nobody needs to see that," Lorthrendel returned. He winced when he accidentally cut his cheek. He wiped the blood off and added, "Besides, I still enjoy the company and admiring eyes of women, so I have to at least look halfway decent."

Aerysdren rolled his eyes. "At least cut your hair," he persisted. "It literally took you two hours this morning to comb it. I know because I counted. That's ridiculous."

"It's tradition, Aerysdren." Lorthrendel let out a long, deep sigh that seemed to come from his toes. "You'll never see an Eastern Fae man with short hair." He looked at the Sylvanaar through the mirror and frowned. "At least you can actually tell my people's men and women apart from each other; nearly every elf male looks and acts like a woman."

Aerysdren mirrored his frown. "So? Maybe that's our 'tradition'," the elf retorted with another eye roll. "We elves enjoy the more beautiful and delicate things in life, like the arts."

"It shows, Aerysdren, it shows." Lorthrendel couldn't help but smile. Lorthrendel had never been very fond of elves; they were too...odd, to put it simply. Both the Sylvari and the Sylvanaar were obsessed with nature, and, well, they both had a thing about sexual pleasures, and illustrated that in both literature and paintings. He prefered them over humans or dwarves, but still.

Aerysdren scratched his nose and sneezed. "Excuse me," he muttered.

"Say, where are the others?" Lorthrendel turned around to face the elf once he was finished. He laid the razor down and leaned against the counter. "I've not heard Ragnus's voice all day today. That's a new record. I think the longest is about ten minutes."

"Varenyl went out to train, but when I saw him, it looked more like he was letting his emotions out on the dummy. Ragnus and Isendir are with Leravacha in the Longhouse," Aerysdren replied with a shrug. He fell silent, his gaze downcast. "Um, Lorthrendel?"

"Yes?"

"Can I talk to you about something?"

"Of course, Aerysdren." Lorthrendel's brows lifted. "You can talk to me about anything."

Aerysdren shuffled his feet and sniffed. "I-I've been thinking a lot recently. I was going to go to Isendir, but you've been around the longest, so I figured...." His voice trailed off.

"Go on," Lorthrendel gently prompted. He crossed his arms over his chest and gazed at Aerysdren intently.

"I'm scared, Lorthrendel," whispered Aerysdren. "I'm scared...of losing all of you. I feel like we are marching to our deaths....We're a family. I don't want us to split apart again. Families are meant to stay together. Forever," he choked.

"Aerysdren." Lorthrendel walked over to him and knelt down on the floor, gently placing on his hands on the boy's shoulders. He looked him in the eye. "All good things must come to an end, Aerys. Some things, unfortunately, end sooner than they should. I especially know that." He shrugged. "My adoptive parents died when I was eighty some years old. I was about your age when I laid them to rest. But death does not always mean the end. There is a whole new adventure awaiting you once this life comes to a close, Aerys, with all the people who you've lost waiting patiently for you. My kinsmen live for a thousand years. For us, death is like greeting an old friend."

Aerysdren looked at him. Another tear slid down his cheek. And then another. And another. And another. "...So we are marching to our deaths, aren't we?"

"No, Aerysdren." Lorthrendel wiped the tears from the boy's eyes. "We're not. We are all going to get through this just fine, okay? Fate put us together for a reason."

"Are you sure? Fate picked a lousy team then."

"Strange times make strange heroes, Aerysdren." Lorthrendel smiled sadly. "Some of us may die; I won't deny that. But do not think they died needlessly and in vain. We will make sure that their death helped ensure that the world's future children have a chance at life."

Without another word, Lorthrendel clasped Aerysdren in a warm, strong embrace. "I will never leave you, Aerys. I will stay by your side until my last breath leaves my body, and the same goes for the others. Do not let the burden you carry pull you down. Do you understand me?" He let go, his eyes soft. "One day, we all be old and grey like Ragnus, sitting around a fire, drinking wine and telling stories about these days. We'll remember the old dwarf, and if Isendir is no longer with us, we'll remember him as well, and make sure both of their legacies live on."

Aerysdren smiled smalley and wiped his eyes once more. "Yeah, except you'll still be young, and look exactly the same as you do now."

Lorthrendel chuckled and stood up. He ruffled Aerysdren's feathery black hair. "Everything will be fine, Sylvanaar. I promise."

But his words proved to be nothing but the remnants of a hopeful, unrealistic dream. 

***🐉***

i love yall♡♡ tsym for the support :')

(also, sorry for uploading this twice. i was editing it and i accidentally unpublished it because im an idiot 😂)