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The agony of knowing he was gone was insurmountable.
Ethari had always known this was a possible fate. He loved a dangerous man, who went into dangerous spaces. He was skilled, he was the most skilled, and his team was trained to near perfection.
But the struggle against the humans would not be as dire as it was if their elven training was enough just like that. Ethari might not be a frontline fighter himself, but he made the weapons that had to withstand the humans, and he knew of the abomination they dared to call magic.
Still, the night of the full moon, he had kept a vigil, as had the other families of the team sent. And it had been a terrible, terribly painful night.
One after the others, the flowers had sunk, and with them, their hope of ever seeing their loved ones again. Runaan’s and Reyla’s flowers had stayed afloat, and Ethari had felt the jealousy in the grieved eyes of his fellows for some time, until his own heart got twisted and torn from his chest.
When Runaan’s flower had wobbled, ice had reached for Ethari’s heart, and squeezed it. Then, as the flower slowly sank to be bottom of the little pond, tears had poured from his eyes. He had been unable to utter a single sound, while inside his head, the denial of reality fought with abject devastation. It couldn’t be, Runaan was the best they had!
But most of the other flowers had sunk before his. The mission seemed like absolute failure. The team, dead. It was near impossible that they would have accomplished their goal like that.
When Ethari became cognizant of his surroundings again, over the cacophony of pain inside himself, the jealous stares of the other families around him had turned to pity. The sun was rising. The night was over.
And Rayla’s flower was still afloat.
All the other flowers in the little pond had sunk to the floor. But Rayla’s was still there. A small glimmer of conflicting hope rose in Ethari’s chest. His daughter – she was not Lain’s and Tiadrin’s anymore, she was his, his and Runaan’s – was still alive.
Had Runaan died to protect her? Had he seen sense and left her behind?
None of the thoughts he had were happy, but the small glimmer of hope to not have lost everything, that helped him stand up.
The teartracks in his face had dried. The others had left already, it was not their way to console one another unasked.
He went back to his home, and fell asleep, sleeping through most of the day.
When he woke, his first thought was whether Runaan would return today, and then, the realization hit.
Runaan would not come back. Not now, not ever.
Ethari fought to get up after that. Only the thought of Rayla, of looking if her flower was still in the pond, kept him from burrowing into his blanket and hiding from the world.
He got up. He went to the pond. It was as he had left it last: five sunken flowers, one floating. Rayla was still alive.
Runaan was dead.
Ethari got through a few days in a daze, until the rumors reached him. Rayla’s flower was floating, kept floating. But she didn’t return.
News came. They had always had spies, informants, people who kept in touch with what happened in the human lands. And what news they brought was terrible.
The elves had been discovered prior to their attack. The humans had fought prepared, had wrought havoc among the assassins sent. The five assassins. And while the king, the cursed king Harrow was confirmed dead, his son, the young prince, was only missing. Missing was not confirmed dead.
Five lives lost, and not even the full mission accomplished.
And there was talk of Rayla having betrayed the mission. She was alive, and very possibly, so was the prince. She should have died for the mission or succeeded, as the other five had.
Ethari’s heart broke once more when they started speaking of Rayla as they had of Tiadrin and Lain. The families of the fallen proposed it, but the elders and much of the village soon concurred. She was a daughter of traitors, and what was there to expect. Runaan and Ethari might have tried bringing her up, but not sometimes the best efforts were in vain. Runaan died because of her treachery. She was just like her parents.
When they decided on whether to cast the spell, Ethari did not come. He hid. He could not face them, looking at them, as they decided to rip the last part of his family from him. He did not know what to think of Rayla. He did not thing she would ever betray, but he had told Runaan she was too young, that for all her talent, she was still a child, and not yet an assassin who could kill at will. She had heard about the attack on Avizandum, the murder of the Prince’s egg, but she had never seen combat, never been there to kill.
Maybe it had been like that. Maybe she had needed protecting, and Runaan had kept her out of the fighting. Maybe she was just off, still hunting after the missing prince, to finish the mission.
The decision stood. They cast the spell the very next day.
There was little to feel when the spell took effect.
Ethari cried. His love was gone. His daughter was lost to him. He was alone, and all he felt was grief and loss.
He wished, Runaan were still here to hold him through the fear, but the fear he felt was of going into a future without Runaan by his side.
Alone, forever.