Legacy
After having departed from the Lady Malevolent and informing Vinarei that he would return the next morning, Sallo stood among survivors of the current war in Darkshore. His steps were steady and his expression neutral as always while he made his way down the docks and into the island village of Rut'theran that was being used as a recovery center for those returning from battle. On all sides he gazed at kaldorei caring for their kin, many in dire states and in need of healing while others had that fateful sheet pulled over their heads.
Sentinels, priestesses, druids, no one had been spared in the defense and it was a horrid sight for the spirit. Still, Sallo kept calm and did not let his emotions run away from him. Instead, he looked for familiar faces, anyone who might be able to direct him towards his daughter. Almost every sentinel he spied was far too busy or preoccupied to point him to one of their sisters.
Then, he saw someone he absolutely recognized. Sallo stopped in his tracks as he saw Jetha sitting on the steps of one of the huts towards the outside of the village, her hands clutching her arms as she looked towards the dirt at the bottom of the steps. Her priestess robes were still white and pristine as she had not seen combat yet, likely staying within Rut'theran to assist with the wounded. Her expression was of utter exhaustion and defeat, eyes glazed and cheeks wet with a mouth hung slightly open.
Sallo steeled himself for a moment. He had hoped this meeting could have been avoided all together but it seemed he had little in the way of options. As he stood before her at the bottom of the stairs, he exhaled before steadily greeting her. "Hello, Jetha." The female's eyes focused on where they were looking and her mouth slowly closed, lips pursing. She looked up to him, her eyes still glazed but a scornful anger in them that could burn through a man.
She stood up gracefully and made her way down the steps, her eyes locked to his as no words were said. She stood just before Sallo's neutral expression, mere inches from him, and waited until his mouth opened to speak before a hand came up and slapped Sallo across the cheek with a loud crack. Her voice was cold but punishing in its low volume. "Our daughter is dead."
The words hung in the air like a knife above his head that threatened to fall at any moment. Sallo's eyes slowly widened and his mouth hung open in horror. His way, the way of the monk, was to maintain balance at all times, to not let any emotion, good or bad, overwhelm the rest. At this moment, Sallo failed in his teachings as he simply stared forward while Jetha moved passed him, disappearing into the rest of the village. Sallo's heart clenched and nearly stopped in his chest. All sound faded from around him into a simple muffle as he collapsed to one knee and leaned forward on one hand. "Our...daughter is..." were all the words that he could muster in a hushed tone. He could see it in his mind, his daughter, a newly graduated sentinel, on the battlefields with fear in her eyes as her sisters perished around her and the Horde descended to silence her screams and tear her apart with no regard for honor or mercy.
Sallo's eyes slowly lifted, breaths heaving through grit teeth as ho turned to look at the shores of Darkshore with one thing in mind.
Revenge.
(Mentions: @vinarei)
