But I don’t know if he had anything to do with their deaths. I took Vesslan’s word for it.
A wave of guilt washed over him at doubting Vesslan. But, at the same time, his brother was only guessing what happened too. No one knew what happened to their parents. Only that they had gone into the Under Dark and had not returned.
A million different things could have happened to them. They might have never reached Vex. He amended that, They likely didn’t.
If he looked at this completely objectively, there was a possibility here of renewing the connection between Aravae and Kindreth. A positive reason to reunite once more even if it was in an uneasy truce.
Then maybe Declan wouldn’t have to leave…
He blushed at this unexpected thought. It shouldn’t play a role in any of his thinking, but what if Declan were the ambassador from the Kindreth to the Aravae? What if Declan would stay on Earth? Or even in Illithor? Guarding the gates? Only a short rift walk between them?
The thought of walking down bustling Illithor streets with Declan suddenly appeared full blown in his mind. And in that imagining, Declan’s hair was white and his eyes were red, but, instead of detracting from his beauty, they enhanced it.
Could such a thing be real?
His heart wanted to shout “YES” even as his mind tried to quell such hope. And yet, the truth was that it could never be if he didn’t try to make it so. Vex had brought him here. What he did next was up to him.
His fingers uncurled from around the Sunstone and it sank once more to the bottom of his pocket. He would not act out of fear, revenge or hate. He would find another way to deal with the Leviathan.
I must locate King Vex. Declan will, undoubtedly, be with him. We must come to a determination together about what is to be done with them, he realized. A determination that does not involve the destruction of this place and its ecosystem. And one that recognizes that this place is the Kindreth’s domain but that we have a shared interest in what happens here.
He was about to turn his back on the nest and head to Illithor–the most likely place the Night King was at–when he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. His head jerked towards the movement. He expected a Leviathan or two or twenty. His lips parted to speak words of power, but his mouth ended up simply hanging open.
His mother was standing there. He knew her face and figure as well as his own. He could always tell if the portraits of her were off compared to the real thing, so he was certain it was her that he was seeing now.
Honey gold hair that hung in glorious waves to her lower back. The off-the-shoulder white and crimson gown with gold stitching he’d seen her wear many times, but so out of place for the Under Dark that he felt the need to throw his cloak over her. The delicate diadem of diamonds that encircled her brow. The rose of her lips and cheeks.
But the words–all words–were stuck in his throat like shards of glass.
She was not looking at him, but away from him, into the nest. Her elegant hands were clasped together against her chest. Her fingers tightly woven together as she stared at something that gave her anxiety. She took a step towards the nest and that unfroze him.
“M-Mother?” he called.
She didn’t turn her head. She didn’t seem to have heard him.
“Mother?!” he shouted.
Had she and his father somehow gotten trapped in Illithor? Unable to either make or find a rift out of the Under Dark? Had they remained here hundreds of years? No. This just couldn’t be. There was no way that his parents would have remained here for that long. They would have found a way out so…
She was walking into the nest. He had to follow. Though this had to be some kind of trap, if it wasn’t… He had to get to her. He unslung his sword Glorandal–or Dawnbreaker as it was translated in English–and raced after her.
He moved like the wind in the trees. His step was light as a feather. He kept the light of Glorandal low. It, too, could burn with the Sun’s fire, but not yet. He had to find his mother or whoever that was.
The nest, which had looked like solid walls of spun silk, had an opening where his mother had disappeared. He swallowed deeply as he stepped through it into the nest. He heard her step ahead of him. His head jerked towards the sound and he saw the flowing hem of her skirt disappearing around another wall of silk. He did not call for her again.
It cannot be her!
He murmured a spell of renewed protection. If anything struck him a flash of sunlight would be emitted even as he was untouched. Such illumination would be deadly to any Leviathan or any other creature from the Under Dark.
The ground was stone so it was easy to move over without leaving a trace. At first, the dark stone and the silver threads were all he saw, but then he turned a corner of the maze-like interior of the nest and came to an abrupt halt. His heart leaped into his throat as he brought Glorandal up to defend himself. But he stopped. This wasn’t a Leviathan. A cocoon was before him. A cocoon in a familiar humanoid shape. He stepped towards it.
The head was almost even with his. The threads were seemingly wrapped tightly around the entirety of the body. He could only see their silvery-gray color at first. But that was when he jumped back again. What he had perceived as threads on the face were, in fact, not. The person’s skin was gray. Desiccated. Mummified.
He drew close again and brought up a gloved hand to touch the exposed cheek. It was impossible to tell if this was human, Aravae, Kindreth or some other race entirely. When his fingertips brushed that cheek, gray ash suddenly rose up and the entirety of the face caved in. Horror filled him as the destruction continued. The whole body collapsed. The strands that had bound it also lost shape and they hung like an empty sack.
There was a sound to his left. His head snapped in that direction. He saw the fluttering end of his mother’s hair deeper within the structure. But he also saw dozens–no, hundreds or maybe thousands–of cocoons that stretched in all directions. They hung in orderly rows and he lost sight of all of them in the gloom above.
My mother is not in this horrible place. Who is leading me like this? The Leviathan have no such power. So is it… Vex?
