The Vision

September 15, 794 - Talismanian Reckoning

The stars glittered overhead as Jaron huddled together with Joerda in a small thicket of trees near the D'ner river. They were both young, and terribly frightened by what they had witnessed. Hiding seemed to be the most natural response. With no idea where to go next, Jaron had taken them east, where he knew that civilization must lie. Solitude would only bring them trouble.

Joerda recovered her wits quickly, but did not know what to make of the young man who spoke to her with his mind rather than his mouth. Jaron kept himself aloof from her, retreating into the protective shell of solitude that he knew so well.

Knowing very little of the Wraith-kin, Jaron was unable to determine if they were being followed, or even if it was possible to tell. Joerda offered little help, for each of her attempts at communication with him was met by a gaze of disinterest, and Jaron's acute silence. They had pressed on, fearful of discovery.

Jaron startled Joerda when he struck up a conversation, rather uncharacteristic of him, in her experience.

{My father told me that the trees took the lifeforce remaining in the dead, and created new life with it in memory of the deceased.}

"What are you talking about?" she asked, confused.

{The properties that cause life are present in all that grows, ages, and dies. The dead no longer need those properties, and so release them to the world, where the living, which still need them, snatch them up again.}

He paused, and stared at her with his blue-green eyes. For a moment, it seemed to Joerda that they glowed in the darkness, but the sensation passed, and she shook her head to rid it of the hallucination. Looking away, he resumed his shared thought.

{Even after something dies, it remains a memory to those who live. Since the living ultimately feed upon the dead, the memories fade as those who have passed on are gone longer and longer, eventually returning in parts to life once more. They aren't a memory anymore, but the living...}

"Jaron, please stop. You don't know what you're saying," she pleaded. Worry etched itself into her face, lines that appeared hollow in the starlight.

{I'm sorry Joerda. You're right. I don't know what came over me. We need to find a place to rest sat least a day or two to regain our strength, but we can't stay. You saw what they did to Master Sunset. People need to be warned of the Wraith-kin.}

"But how can we do that? We're just two people..."

Jaron nodded. {But two people can make all the difference.}