Epitaphs etched themselves atop heartbroken eulogies, their barbed edges branding upon a heavy heart. A wounded soul who called desperately for home’s warmth but found only empty silence in reply. Time, an indifferent master, moved ever forward without care. From scalding sands returned a shattered heart while a blade of ceremony lay at a young wolf’s feet. No longer could he wait for the comfort he sought as fingers slowly dragged across a dimly lit screen, a quiet disconnection as comms went silent for Vol’kari Kurs’kaded.
A stalwart wall collapsed, ruptured by a hushed grief’s weight. Underneath Iron of teal and emerald, a pressure built with relentless force, recent memories acting as their fuel. There in the darkness of ruins long since abandoned, amongst the dull roar of flowing water, a wolf howled in measured agony. To the still night air his deepest feelings were committed in cold solitude, until another hunter would stumble upon his maelstrom and sit with him through the storm as it attempted to rip Vol’kari asunder.
Broken pieces were gathered up, their edges pieced together, reforging into blades that were sharper and stronger than before. Names and faces flooded his thoughts, reminders of the world that he still had plenty to live for, he still had plenty to fight for. Pain would come, as it always did, but with those around him, he could whether the storm, the foundation of his resolve remaining not only uncracked, but reinforced by the vode who protected him just as much as he protected them.
And, if all else failed, if their lives would be bereft of miracles, then with drawn blade he would dance beneath the stars and their ancestors, as tribute to one of those closest to him. And he would carry it upon his heart and soul until the day he drew his own final breath.
