39th day of Winter, 513AV
Therizo had ceased counting the days since his arrival to Sunberth on the second fortnight thence, and was now quite resigned to staying, though he still missed the marble Isle of Dira that had been his home for the first 20 years of his life. He looked at the palm of his right hand wherefrom a black scythe, the Eiyon, ingrained upon its skin, looked back at him - a gift that he had been blessed with on the day of his departure. The memory of the moment brought with it the street in which it was set, and that memory, in its turn, brought up an empty feeling within Therizo that he recalled feeling before on the ship that bore him and his father to Zelitva. His stomach felt as if contorting in impossible knots, and he clentched his teeth and closed his eyes to make Blackrock go away. Yet It was still there, though blurred as it was by the passage of time that Tanroa so undeviatingly pushed forth. It was perhaps this empty feeling - a void within their heart - that set to crying the ones who brought the corpses of those dear to them to be buried in the Dust Bed.
"Had I been raised like them, would I too feel as they do about the cycle?" he wondered now, as he often did, struggling to solve this riddle that perplexed and unnerved him. He did not want it to be true, but at the same time felt that there was no denying it. "My father too lived in Blackrock, yet he is ignorant." Lived yes, but was not raised there - to not know the mortal fear instilled in him by the authorities of his childhood. "Instilled, or not expelled?"
It was afternoon in its senescence, and Syna's rays had already that blush tint that eased the day's passing in to night. Therizo had elected to take a detour on his way from the graveyard that day, and Instead of taking, as he usually did, the left at the now familiar crossing of two streets, turned towards the city center. "Father can wait, I have been returning on time for the last ten days at least," he had thought to himself upon making the first steps.
The excursion had brought him passed some taverns in which he found himself uninterested, after hearing the unpleasant laughter of drunkards coming from inside. The shops he walked by did not entice him either, for he had not enough money on him to buy the things they sold, and no enthusiasm to browse through them aimlessly. A beggar or two stopped him, and begged for coin or food to no avail, though he saw and pitied them for their snow chilled feet, hunger sunken cheeks and dirty rags that barely covered them enough to keep them decent. Past all that, what stopped him stood in the very center of the city - majestic and grand, though it was old and decrepit. He stepped slowly, even reverently towards the entrance of the massive cathedral that sprawled in front. |