Sharyssa's possible future

I wrote this thanks to inspiration given by combined idea's of what the future of character's could look like, Both Faralan and Jarren have written stories, nightmares and visions of a future that could be possible. Of course this is entirelly out of the Lore and we don't know if any of this will actually happen but it's fun to look past "now" and write something for later. This is the first part of my own share I have written, of course keeping in mind that by now Faralan has passed away and Sky is alone with their son Raynar. Adenah is also dead, perished at childbirth, her daughter Elayn and husband Jarren remaining. What happend to Orthur, Nygarth and Erahn (or the offspring) is not yet mentioned or cleared.



The stars were hidden from sight, leaving the sky nearly a picth black colour and no light to shine and lighten the hills of Arathi. Stromgarde shrouded in the darkness with a single figure walking the path across the bridge. Covered underneath a heavy and ragged leather cloak pulled over her head. Skytalon moved less graciously than she used to. Her frame had lost the agility she once possessed before laying down the mantle of Ranger-General.
Guards paid no heed to the wandering woman, her ritual well-known amongst the men that took the duty of keeping their walls and gates safe at night. Some bowed their head in respect others simply kept to themselves and let her pass in peace.

Only at the chapel she comes to a halt, lifting her head and sliding down the fabric of her cloak to stare up at the building that rises up to the sky. The pillars dark and looming in shadows that give the surrounding area a gloomy and depressing atmosphere. Yet she does not linger, the sanctuary is not her destination and she quickly turns away to step towards the side-entrance leading to the graveyard found in the back. Each step growing heavier and her usual proud and confident stance begins to show her true burden. Shoulders hanging down with the pressure weighing down upon her with each step closer to her goal.
Leaving her day to day strenght behind the eldery woman stands before a well kept tombstone, its engraved text not visible in the darkness of the night yet the words etched into her mind. Chosen carefully by herself the day it was placed upon the sacred ground with the remains of her husband underneath.

“Faralan -Bearclaw- Thorgint, Champion of Ogardin.”
“Heart and home of the Eagle, Honourable Father, Son and Brother.”

She had found it difficult to narrow down his essence in only a mere few words, nothing had ever felt sufficient enough to portrait how he had affected lives of many. Yet mostly her own and that of his, and their, family.
Skytalon's hand reaches towards the coarse stone, fingers trembling when touching the invisible text with a low sob heard coming from her. No matter how many years had passed by now she still came here every other night to let go of all the pain that wrenched her heart from the moment she woke up to the moment she went to sleep.
There was no other way to vent the loss of the man that had given her a home and love, not while his son grew up to be so much like him. The woman wouldn't let her own flesh and blood see how much it tormented her to lay eyes on him and see the love she lost in his features.

“Why'd ye 'ave tae leave me 'ere midor ... why did ye nae stay tae watch 'im grow, ye'd be so proud. I need ye 'ere, 'n Raynar does too.”

Each word was nothing more than a shaky whisper, hoarse and revealing the age that had caught up with her in the years that had passed. No longer strong and keeping up the appearances of coping she crumbles. Falling down to her knees infront of the stone she's holding with a hanging head.

“Midor, I wish I coul' run sum'times, run 'way from all tha's 'urtin' me 'ere 'n reminds me tha' yer nae longer wit' me. Yer wha' kept me 'ere. 'n tis tha' son ye sired wit' me tha' is keepin' me 'ere still. I kno' ye'd want 'im tha' grow up 'ere, follow 'm path o' 'is 'eritage... bu' by Suxen it 'urts.”

With her strenght fading at every word she speaks towards the cold stone Sky struggles more and more to contain the tears and sobs bursting from her now that she's alone. Seeking a form of solace at the one place she knows her husband can be found. The one place she finds herself capable of visiting at all. Ever since the day she had been given the news of his death she had not climbed the mountains to retreat to the cave hidden in one of the many peaks.
Not while he was no longer there or she wouldn't see him meditating like she used to. The bearcave that he had used so often to clear his mind had become a place she avoided. Scared of breaking the memories it held or the rememberance of its purpose. Afraid of her own feelings would she stand there and feel completely lost and alone.

While Sky poured out her heart and the words spilled from her lips in sorrowfull whispers to the burried man in the soil a young teenager stood behind one of the trees. His body even in the darkness showing a muscular build, perhaps somewhat out of proportion with sudden growth spurts catching up to him. But already towering above the average height. His raven black hair granting him the advantage to remain hidden in the darkness.
He didn't look at the figure of his mother, couldn't stand seeing her in her current state. It affected him greatly to see how much she's hurting without her usual demeanour of keeping him sheltered from it. His eyes shimmering with a moist shine when he wipes at his own tears. The memory of his father distant and vague, he wish he'd remember more but he was too young when he passed away.
Nothing more but a few fragments of playfull fencing and rolling around with a massive hulking figure. Even his face was nothing but an undetailed blur to him.

Raynar had often wondered how things would have been if his father would not have died in that battle. A desire to fight together, see a proud smile instead of the sadness hidden behind the pride of his mother's smile. He didn't really knew how much effort she had to put every single day to keep going, yet she did it. But on some rare occasions he would catch her staring at him in silence, thinking he didn't notice. And he could tell easily that it was not him she saw by the look on her face. It was an expression he had seen so often on the face of Commander Goldheart when he was looking at Elayn.
They both had endured several remarks on how they both looked so much like the lost parent, it was a burden they both shared and it created a bond between the two he had become very grateful for. He was the escape she needed to get away from an over protective and mourning father and she was the escape he used to get away from a mother just as protective and stubborn as Stormclaw at times, however more reasonable.

And now he could finally see exactly how much the dead of his father hurt his mother. It dawned to him that she tried harder than he gave her credit for to not burden him with it. The stabbing pain in his chest was probably only a fraction of what she must be feeling. And the young adult cursed to himself, cursed the Ancestors for some much loss and grief within his family. He had been told how his sister's passing had devastated his father and he could see how Stormclaw and Elayn suffered from it. He admired Skytalon's strenght but it only saddened him further.

Raynar stood by the tree for aslong as his mother was knelt infront of the grave of Bearclaw, listening to each piercing sob and cry escaping her. Regretting he came to follow her after years of curiousity edging him on to go after her when he saw her leave the house. It felt like he was intruding a most sarcred and private moment, something he shouldn't see nor know at all.
He didn't know how long he had to wait but eventually the dark figure rose again.
“Do midor dek Bearcla' ...” were the final words he could hear her say, noticing the heartfelt affection and sadness in the tone more clearly than he had ever done before.

Once she was gone he didn't pursuit again but came out of hiding to visit the grave himself. Staring down with silent tears. A large and nearly as hulking figure as Faralan once was stood in the night.

“Dureh ... why ain' ye 'ere to tell me what tae do? They say 'm Ancestors are spirits ... why dun' ye show yerself? Do sum'thin' .... be 'ere fer us....”
His voice trailed off, leaving so many words unspoken while he just stared down at the cold and non-responding tomb at his feet. Not even a single breeze touching his face with nothing but utter and pressuring silence surrounding him. Only making it more apparent that no answers would come, no prayers that would be heard. Just the dark silence and broken dreams.