Epilogue

Galen Russo, no, Eujin Vast crested the last hill, the village he’d called home for much of his life stretched out below in the morning sunshine. Renning was just as he’d remembered it, down to the same families living on the same stone-lined streets, doing the same jobs in the same way as the same day he left. It had been almost four years he’d been gone, and yet it felt like things hadn’t changed a day.

He followed the main road past some of the outlying farms, waving and calling out to some of the families as he passed. Most stopped what they were doing, and a few waved back. None, however, seemed to recognize him. Or, if they did, they didn’t seem keen on wanting to admit it. Eujin frowned. He did have the new scar on his face, and his hair was longer than it used to be. Maybe he looked more different than he realized.

Then again, being dressed in Shikari blacks and carrying a small arsenal’s worth of weapons probably helped with that too.

He made it to the town square in short order. It was Tradesday, so the central market was in full swing, dozens of makeshift stalls manned by faces he recognized hawked wares of all sorts, and the air was dense with the sounds of haggling and the bleats of animals, and the smells of spices and fruit and cooked meat. He picked his way through the crowd, making his way towards one end. He greeted several old friends, but they refused to respond or meet his eye, and when he tried to press them, they made a point of walking off in a hurry to avoid him.

Why are they being like this?

Unsure of what to think, he made his way towards the Feast and Flagon. Amara would be working this time of day. Maybe she could help him figure out what the hell was going on.That was, of course, assuming she didn’t pretend not to recognize him either.

He tried the front door of the inn, but was surprised to find it locked. That was… unusual. He followed the alley on the side of the building to the rear entrance.

And that’s when he saw her.

She couldn’t be more than three or so years old, her hair the same auburn as Amara’s, bent down and playing with something in the street. Hearing him approach, she turned and stared at him with large grey eyes. His grey eyes. He froze, his heart pounding. Gods, had he really been gone that long?

The girl dropped the toy in her hand to the street, where it clattered softly on the stone.

“Momma!” She called, running inside and slamming the back door. “Momma! Some weird man is here!”

Eujin stopped a few paces away from it, his stomach turning flips over itself. He had missed so much. He was a father. Why had he left? Why had he left them behind?

The rear door to the inn opened and Amara Russo stepped out, wiping her hands on the apron at her waist. She was a little older looking, a little thinner in the face, and her hair was a little shorter. But gods was she still beautiful.

“Can I help you?” She asked.

“Hello, Mar.” He said

She froze, her hands twisted in the apron fabric. Her eyes narrowed, then flew wide.

“Galen?”

“In the flesh.” He said smiling.

She took a step backwards, her face shifting through a complex mixture of emotions all at once.

“You- I-.... Gods, Galen, I thought you were dead!” She said, her face pale.

“Well, that’s partly true. I’m not really Galen anymore.” He said. He took a step closer, reaching a hand for her face.

“Gods, Mar, I’ve missed you.” He started, then drew short as she shied away from his touch.

“Don’t, Galen.” She said. “Just, don’t.”

“Don’t what? You’re my wife!” He said, raising his voice.

“...Not anymore.” She said quietly, refusing to meet his gaze.

Eujin’s heart flew into his throat.

“What...what do you mean?” He asked.

Amara looked up at him, seeming to struggle with what to say for a long moment.

“Galen… I thought you were gone. For good. You stopped writing after the first year, and I thought your stupid quest for revenge had finally gotten you killed. I waited, and waited, but no more letters came. So I made peace that you weren’t coming back. Me and some of the people in town, we even had a memorial service for you.” She said.

“Well, I’m clearly not dead!” Eujin protested.

“I see that.” Amara said quietly.

“So why can’t we just go back to how things used to be before I left?”

A look of pain crossed Amara’s face, and she looked down at the street.

“Because I’ve remarried to someone else.” She said softly.

Eujin’s heart fell into his stomach, and it took everything in his power to keep himself composed. He swallowed hard, and struggled to keep his voice steady.

“Who?” He asked.

“Bernard Kunning.” She said.

“The brewer’s son? He’s a simpleton!”

Anger flashed in Amara’s eyes.

“He’s a good man! He’s reliable. He was there for me when you weren’t. And he’s been the father to our daughter that it seems you were too busy to find the time to come back and be.” She said.

Eujin felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. Something moved behind Amara, and the little girl’s head poked out through the rear doorway.

“Is everything okay, Momma?” She asked.

Amara turned toward the girl and smiled.

“Yes dear, everything is fine. Now run back inside and help your Papa prepare dinner for the guests.” She said.

The little girl disappeared back inside, and Amara turned back to him.

“What’s her name?” Eujin asked.

“Syrvena. It means ‘soft of voice’ in Old Getherian. Or, ‘whisper’, if you use the other meaning.” Amara said.

“Syrvena.” Eujin repeated, choking up. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is.” Amara said.

Eujin stood there, uncertain what else to say. After a long moment, Amara turned towards the door.

“I need to go.” She said.

“Can I see her again?” Eujin asked softly. “Please?”

Amara turned back. Her face was conflicted, even pained, but she shook her head.

“I think it’s best that you don’t.” She said. “Our lives have moved on. I think it’s best your life moves on too.”

She turned and walked to the door, turning to look at him one final time.

“Goodbye, Galen.” She said, before shutting the door behind her.

Eujin stood in the street for a long time. Finally, when he couldn’t bear it anymore, he turned away and started on the path out of town. No one spoke to him as he left. Barely any gave him a second glance.

He came to a stop at the hilltop, and, finding himself lacking the will to go any further, sat down on it. He pulled his sword from its sheath, its crimson blade glowing rich as blood in the midday sun.

“Well old friend, it seems I finally have a name for you.” He said. “My surname already fits you anyways, since Russo means ‘scarlet’ in Ha’athian. But now I have a given name for you too. So from now on, your name is Syrvena Russo. My very own personal Scarlet Whisper.”

He smiled sadly to himself as he stood, holding the sword beside him as he looked down at Renning one last time.

“Maybe one day,” he said to the sword as he turned to leave, “she’ll finally get to meet you.”