The sending stone died before Cerrit made it out. And Cerrit is a full-classed rogue. No Sending, no spells at all. With nothing but destroyed continent beneath him, he’d have no way to contact anyone.
His family had *no idea* he made it out. They very probably assumed he didn’t.
When the entire continent of Dunemas went dark, when the news started to filter back of its destruction, when the scant survivors started trying to reach their families…there was no reason to believe that Cerrit had escaped.
Survivors and their stories emerge—but they’re civilians, mostly. Regular people who escaped on ships, through teleport, through trees.
The ones from Avalir and Cathmoíra have one particular story to tell: at the end, the Herald told them that the ring of gold, the magisters, the leaders of the city would go down with the ship. That no space on what lifeboats they had would be taken from Avalir’s people.
So that’s the answer: Cerrit, too, would have gone down with the ship.
His wife probably had a difficult conversation with their children. Told them about sacrifice, told them sometimes we lose people but they will always love us just the same, told them that their dad sent them away from the city because he loved them more than anything in the world and then spent every last moment he could trying to save as many more people as he could because he was a good man, because he cared so deeply, because he found problems and fixed them. These conversations probably happened amidst panic and chaos, as news of the attack of Vasselheim spread, as the gods descended and magic raged out of control across Exandria, as the Betrayer gods wrought as much destruction as they could cause.
Were they still at home, when Cerrit finally found them? Did their home still exist after all those weeks he took flying across the ocean? Did they need to flee somewhere safer? Did Kir scrawl a note somewhere the wreckage — “Wingspan: gone north-by-northeast. Look for trail markers on the trees” because he’d promised, mom, he promised, and what if he’s coming but he can’t find us because we’re not here? Did Cerrit have to bring every ounce of his investigation and tracking skills — with no magic, no Avalir, no Patia to let him look back at memories, no Quay to inspire him, no Nydas to fund or enchant any helpful items, no partner to compare notes with, nothing but his sharp eyes and his brain and utter fucking determination — to follow after his family, weeks on an already weeks-long journey, slow and messy and fearing every day he might be too late?
Did he show up almost unrecognizable, head to toe in soot and dirt, some new scar from his near brushes with death, some fresh wounds still bound in bandages for want of anyone with healing spell slots? Did he find his family weary, grieving, scared, but whole and—for the moment—safe? Did they even believe it was him at first? Did they fear he was a ghost, or worse, some horror dragged from the wreckage of Avalir and reanimated by an enraged Asmodeus? Did he take off a bandage to show he still bleeds, and bleeds red, did he kiss his children’s heads and call Kir “Talon”, and see Maya clutching the sphere as if she hasn’t let go of it since it landed in her hands, and tell her—voice breaking at the reminder of Patia, at the first thing he has seen in months besides himself that survived Avalir’s destruction—that he is so, so proud of her, and more importantly he loves her so, so much, and then they knew, then they were sure: Cerrit kept his promise.
kaledo-art
kianamaiart
blakekathryn
2087
gummygunk
theartofmadeline
janainaart
