Four Years Later

   Waves lapped softly against the shores outside of Varikelle, creating a fragile sense of peace as the last gleamings of the sun died beneath the sea.
    An average, nondescript abode rested on a cliff, keeping wary eyes focused on the Sea of Nevari'n. The stones that made up the skin of the home did not exactly match, but the varying shades of grey complemented each other.
    The woman moving from room to room seemed more than slightly out of place. Pale skin offset by ruby hair, clothed in fitted robes that refused to stay white, Kelnai did not fit among the wooden tones of the walls and furniture.
    She paused in the great hallway outside the door that led to Shorin's room. She raised her knuckles as if to knock, but she knew that Shorin would never answer her so she pushed the massive door open without announcing her presence.
    "Shorin," she spoke softly, not wanting to shatter the tentative tranquility that had fallen over the manor-like house. "You should sleep soon, the hour is becoming late."
    Candles flickered around the room, illuminating the maps and books spread before the golden-haired boy resting his feet on a massive desk.
    "I'm waiting for Jenya." He refused to call the man "Father," in any tongue. "Besides, you are not my mother, and it is not your place to set my bed time." The boy had been making that statement for four years, since Kelnai had carried him away from the valleys outside Dor'atehn. He only vaguely remembered being carted across the blighted fields of Serfahlen, being seasick on the journey to this place, miles from all he knew.
    Kelnai winced, not because of the harsh words the Sun-Chylde spoke, but because of the pain behind them. "You are absolutely right," she admitted. "I am not your mother, and I can not replace her or your memories of her. I would not want to try. But this world is a sad place, Shorin." She hated stating the blindingly obvious. It did not bother her that the boy never looked at her when she spoke; there was very little about his discordant behavior that actually did bother her. What worried her was that this was the way the the child was reacting to the troubles of the world - by pushing away the people who were trying to help and deciding to face this world on his own. It was an attitude like his that was destroying the boy's father, causing Jenya to be less and less stable with every day that passed. "A boy as young and innocent as you does not deserve to face it alone." She stepped around the room, drawing the curtains against the air that had become chill. She stood for an instant, staring at the back of the boy's head, hoping for some sort of reply.
    "We both know I won't be young or innocent for much longer." He turned a page of the book sitting in his lap, murmuring as he studied the scrawlings in Kaer'melthek. "And I am never completely alone," he grinned bitterly, referring to the voices of the lost Magi that called to him when a silence stretched too long. They wailed for release, for peace - and Shorin could not care less. He had no pity for the voices that cried of something ancient waking up, no compassion for the screams that told of the world being torn apart, and his father being chosen to rebuild it.
    Kelnai grimaced once more, searching for the words she needed to help this boy. "Your father probably will not return until after the morrow." The last message they had received from the former Tracker said that he was in Talrek Cerdai, picking over the ruins of the Great Library for information on the Rift, the Magi, the Acharya - anything he could find.
    "Did your Dream tell you that?" Shorin scoffed. He had no faith in Magi abilities. Seeing Kelnai nod out of the corner of his eye, he quipped, "Did your Dream tell you when I get my mother back?"
    Kelnai opened her mouth to speak, but only shut it again in confusion. "Shorin, your mother is dead. The dead do not come back." Sometimes she forgot that Shorin was actually a child, and for all he seemed to understand about this world, he still had so much to learn.
    The boy looked her in the eye for the first time in what seemed an eternity, his unnatural amber irises glowing with animosity. "You came back."
    The former Mage only blinked, not knowing what to say. At a complete loss for words, she turned away from the ten-year-old, and glided out of the room, pulling the heavy door shut behind her so that she could lean against it and gather her thoughts.
    Was it possible that the boy knew about Tahdisha? The massive bird, with plumage in hues of flames, had stood before her what felt like forever ago, in Bantaehl, warbling an odd birdsong that healed the lacerations on her skin that had been left by the Kevahrin ceremony. She only vaguely remembered the Acharya's voice, ordering the phoenix to resurrect her.
    Kashan had ordered her to join the Magi eight years ago, forcing her to leave the Taer'shal stronghold on Ur'lindam to gather information on the Acharya and his plans for this world. Grudgingly, she had left the world she'd wanted, and suddenly found herself back in the lives of the friends from her childhood.
    The thought occurred to her that, for all the Seer had spoken of the Children of the Sun and Moon, she knew so little. That woman - and the Acharya - had never bothered to consider that what they called the Dead Houses were still very much alive, gathered on the continent they had supposedly destroyed a decade ago and were planning to reclaim this world. Kelnai sighed, allowing herself a small hopeful smile as she uttered a brief prayer for Jenya's safety.
    Moving away from Shorin's door, she passed through the rest of the house to draw the drapes closed. Through the windows facing north, she could see the city of Varikelle, glowing gently against the backdrop of a fast-darkening horizon. She retreated to her room to study some of the sketches of the Cerdaiya.