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Posted: Mar 1 2018, 08:02 PM
Shandor tried his best to not wilt beneath his brother's fury. Gideon had been so happy, once. They all had. How had he changed so much? But Shandor knew that some of it came down to base personality. Those who carried air within them never truly locked down the way that earthen folk did. Perhaps, if he had been inclined towards air and not rooted to the ground, even Shandor might have gone the route Gideon had.
He listened to Gideon, each word stabbing him with emotional pain. And as he opened his mouth to speak, the other man held his hand up, stalling him.
“I’ll add a stone to the grave in the morning. If you won’t come to my aid now after leaving us so wantonly then you’re dead to me, brother.”
Shandor froze, still as a rock for a moment before his mouth closed, his eyes hardening. Sorrow flooded him, but so did acceptance. He would not walk the path of destruction he saw Gideon going down. The gods could very well be their only hope in this war-tone world. The gods might be the ones who truly came to save them in the end, and Gideon wanted them to not simply return to whence they'd came, but be destroyed.
A God's arrival couldn't be anything but cataclysmic, their departure when done so violently, would be even more so.
Silent, he stared at Gideon with gentle green eyes. After a moment, his eyes turned toward the gravestones, all in a line, and then he turned and walked away. "Goodbye, brother." The words were soft, drifting back to Gideon on the gentle breeze that passed them both by. Deliberately, not hurried but not lingering, Shandor returned to his horse, murmuring a prayer for his dead family, and looking once again upon the handsome visage of his brother, twisted by fury.
Then, as steadily as he had rode home, he turned away and rode away from it. There was still time to save the gods from Gideon's wrath. Or perhaps, him from theirs.
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