S.A 2061
Demdor sat by Orneth's bedside, his fingers tenderly stroking her hair. He could sense her distress, and his heart ached for her. Yet, he himself appeared to be defeated, weighed down by a burden that was invisible to Orneth. "First Manyamë and now you," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "He truly deserved his death." Orneth looked at him, seeking solace in his words. "He said I was willing," she whispered, her voice trembling. Demdor shook his head, his eyes brimming with compassion. "Never believe a thing that creature said to you," he replied firmly. "He was a master manipulator, using his powers to deceive and ensnare."
Orneth's expression turned sorrowful. "How could he transform like that?" she asked, her voice laced with pain. "I had never met a more friendly person. His eyes radiated pure warmth and kindness. How is it possible that he can transform from something so pure to something so dark?" Demdor let out a deep sigh, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I do not know, Orneth," he said softly. "We all know that seduction is the greatest weapon that exists. He manipulated and deluded you, but you are not a stupid person." Orneth looked at him with tears in her eyes. "Why did he do this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Demdor paused, his eyes full of sadness. "I can only assume that bloodline is important to him," he replied. "He may consider his own blood to be the strongest of them all. That is why he tormented Manyamë for so many years, searching for his son." Orneth's gaze dropped to the floor, her shoulders slumped. "And I brought him here instead," she said, her voice barely audible. Demdor's gaze softened as he looked at her, his hand still resting on her hair. "You gave him the first deadly blow," he said, his voice gentle. "It was because of you that he was quickly defeated." Orneth looked up at the ceiling, her mind filled with the weight of her actions. "But it had its cost," she murmured softly.
Demdor stood up, his eyes fixed on the door. Orneth turned her head to see Falchon entering the room. A sense of unease washed over her, as she felt his eyes piercing into her with an intensity that she could not comprehend. His gaze was vacant, empty as a dark and foreboding abyss. "How are you feeling, Falchon?" Demdor asked politely, breaking the silence. Falchon nodded briefly, his face betraying no emotion. "I feel fine," he replied flatly. Demdor nodded, then walked out of the room. Falchon's eyes followed him, their expression unreadable.
Orneth stood up from her bed, her hands absently smoothing out the folds of her clean nightrobe. Falchon sat down in Demdor's chair, his gaze fixed on Orneth. Orneth spoke softly, her voice weak and filled with remorse. "Falchon, I want to express my deepest apologies to you." She gazed at him, but he remained silent, his eyes averted. Orneth continued, "I had no idea who he was, truly." Falchon leaned forward and looked at her. "I heard you were completely unaware that it was my father, Falquando. There is no need for you to apologize, is there?" Orneth shook her head. "Of course, I had no idea. Do you think I would befriend your father after everything you told me and everything Manyamë went through? He called himself Raynamo, a watcher from the Lone-Lands. He even had the correct outfit and emblem. He saved me in the woods when I got lost. He felt genuine, and he quickly earned my trust. We had conversations, trivial ones. He told me about his life, and I did the same. I assume he got the information he needed through that way."
Falchon's expression hardened, and he gazed at her with hurt in his eyes. "Information about me?" Orneth tried to reach for his hand, but he moved away slightly. "Falchon, I know you are hurting, and I apologize for my ignorance. I should have known better." He spoke silently, his voice cold. "I just don't understand why you apologize unless you feel guilty of something?" Orneth felt tired and confused. "I do feel guilty, as I was the reason he came to our homes. I just didn't know it was him. I should have known better." He pointed at her. "Yes, you should have. Why do you always seem to attract the worst kind of Eldars?" Orneth winced, feeling the sting of his words. "Don't mock me, Falchon. I'm in tremendous pain. We don't need to grow further apart. You need me as much as I need you." He looked at her, his expression stony. "I don't need you, Orneth. And you don't need me." Falchon looked clearly uncomfortable, and Orneth could sense the tension between them growing. She moved back onto her bed. "I'm tired, Falchon. Can we talk more later?"
He stood up, preparing to leave. He stopped at the door and turned to look at her. "Forgive me, Orneth. I'm just in pain." She whispered softly, "Your father is dead now. I threw his own dagger into his throat, which made him vulnerable to your attacks. He won't chase or torment us anymore. It's up to you whether you want to continue letting him torment you." Falchon lingered for a moment, but then Demdor arrived, breaking the tension in the room. Orneth could see that Demdor was not thrilled with Falchon's visit.
As Falchon turned towards her in despair, Orneth's heart sank. She felt the weight of his disappointment, the crushing disappointment that came with the realization of his father's true identity. Demdor's sudden arrival only added to the tension in the air, his imposing figure and stern tone making it clear that he did not approve of Falchon's presence.
"I think you should leave, Falchon," Demdor said firmly, his words laced with a hint of threat. Falchon appeared taken aback by his reaction, but he didn't argue. "Let us talk more tomorrow," he said hastily, disappearing in a flurry of movement. Orneth could see the cloak trailing behind him like a shadow. "Why does he partly blame me?" Orneth asked Demdor, her voice heavy with confusion and hurt. "He is a fool consumed by his own hurt," Demdor replied, his eyes fixed on her. "He partly blames you to deflect from the fact that he himself is the main reason for his father's arrival. His father would have reached him no matter what. If it was not you, he would have targeted someone else who would have guided him. Falchon is the reason you lie here with one hand, a blind eye, sick, and broken. You should never have gotten involved with him in the first place. He is a fool." Orneth closed her eyes, feeling the weight of Demdor's words. He was right. Falchon's actions had brought her pain and suffering, but she couldn't help still loving him. She cursed herself for it. Demdor seemed to sense her distress, and he sat down in his usual calm manner. "I apologize. I just..." he trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words. "It's fine, Demdor. You're my guardian," Orneth replied with a small smile.
"Hmm, I guess I am," he said thoughtfully. Then, without answering her question, he instructed her to close her eyes. "Falchiel is asleep as well," he added, before starting to sing softly. It was an old tune, a song about undying love from the days of old. Orneth listened to Demdor's voice, feeling the melody wash over her like a gentle wave. It was so soothing, and she found herself relaxing despite the turmoil in her heart.
All pictures are AI-generated from Microsoft Bing DALL·E
