Ethalarian was stirred first by rays of the early morning sun peeking through the flap of his tent and grumbled something under his breath as he rolled away from the light and pulled his heavy blanket up higher over his head. There he lay for a few moments longer, cocooned by warmth and unwilling for the time being to face the biting cold of winter. Eventually he could delay no longer: there was work to done. Heaving a sigh, the Blood Knight swung his feet out of his bed onto the cold ground and pushed himself upright into a sitting position and glanced over his shoulder, as though he half expected to see someone there. A foolish hope. He was alone in this tent.
Whatever disappointment he felt was fleeting, shrugged off as he rose to his feet and rubbed his face with both hands. Something caught his attention then, twinkling a pale blue-green in the morning light that hadn’t been there before. Oh. That’s right. He held his wrist up and examined his new boon in the light: a bracelet of shimmering aquamarine, delicately crafted, humming with power and swimming with unnatural rivulets of Light. There was a steady pulse emanating from the bracelet as well, akin to a beating heart.
“It’s said by our family it's like throwing a protective shield around those who are...most precious...you'll wear it right?”
“I will treasure this gift,” he murmured to himself as his fingers traced the path of the swimming Light within the bracelet, “and safeguard it with my life.”
The rest of the morning was a blur of activity as he dressed, ate, and held a conference with his Knights. There was tension thick in the air as the stakes of the coming battle dawned on all those involved: this would likely decide the future of the Kingdom. Many of the Archon’s armies would ride north in an effort to liberate the Dawnspire and entrap the Alliance who had dared strike at the heart of the Sunguard while the main host rode west and put down the pretender King once and for all. Grim business lay ahead of them and they each knew it. This rebellion would not be put down easily.
Following the meeting, the camp was to be broken down and the Knights set to their business of preparing for the coming battle. Ethalarian made for his tent late in the morning, prepared to gather what he needed for the coming days before the camp followers packed everything away and sorted it all. As soon as his foot touched the other side of the threshold, he was struck hard in the chest by an odd sensation that set him back a step. Confusion overcame his features as he glanced this way and that in search of some assailant or anything out of place.
Nothing. He was alone. Something felt wrong. He looked down. Velinor’s voice rang in his head.
"We craft these in the Dawnmeadow, made of Holy Water and Light. It's known to protect and enhance power of Light users. Though I no longer hold claim to the Light, I still wear them to remember my home and feel it's heartbeat on my skin.”
There was nothing. No steady pulse. No shimmering magic. No rivulets of Light running to and fro as it danced along the gemmed surface. A lump formed in Ethalarian’s throat as he lifted his arm to inspect his gift...and then his heart fell into a pit.
A massive crack marred the face of the bracelet. The magic was gone.
Ethalarian’s eyes went wide.
A savage tempest of emotions began to brew inside him. Fear and confusion and anguish all swirled together, crashing against the cage of his chest as the strength of his legs left him and he collapsed to his knees.
Not again… whispered a pitiful voice in the back of his mind. One that belonged to him. Please. Please not again.
How could this happen? He couldn’t fit his head around it, couldn’t make anything make sense. She was supposed to come back! Damn it! The winds shifted- fear and anguish coming together into a shrieking gale of rage that overwhelmed everything else. They had taken, and taken, and taken some more. When was the end? Where was the line?! How much more could they take from him?!
Ethalarian shot to his feet, howling with fury. No more. He would lose nothing else. No one else. Fire burned in his veins as he turned to storm from his tent and take the lead of his Knights with one thing and one thing only in mind:
Burn them. Burn them all with this hate until there was nothing left but cinders.
