S.A 2061
In the days after her traumatic encounter with Falchon's father, Falquando, Orneth changed deeply. She withdrew into herself, becoming quiet and thoughtful, as though struggling with a heavy inner conflict. Falchon, who had grown close to her through their shared experiences, quickly noticed the difference. He could tell something was deeply troubling her, but he chose not to push her. Maybe she needed time to recover from the fight—she had lost her left hand and eye—or maybe her struggles were about something much deeper.
Despite her severe injuries, Orneth refused to let her physical limits stop her from searching for her son. She went into the woods, carrying her axe and bow, looking carefully for any sign of him. Many nights, she sat under the moonlight at the place she had last seen him, waiting desperately for a miracle. Each passing day brought more pain to her heart, but she fought hard to hold onto hope that one day she would be reunited with her child.
Demdor was the only one who seemed to understand Orneth's pain. He would often find her in the woods and embrace her without saying anything, offering her silent companionship through the night. Orneth knew that she couldn't live with herself after making the choice to leave her child behind, but she also couldn't bring herself to admit the truth to Falchon and their friends. She tried to convince herself that it was for the best, that the child was gone and many problems were solved, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was betraying those she loved by keeping this secret.
As the months passed with no news of her missing child, Orneth's emotional pain began to take over. A mix of agony and anger consumed her, threatening to overwhelm her completely. She felt torn, unsure how to move forward without betraying the people she cared about. Through it all, Demdor stayed by her side, offering steady support as she grappled with her growing turmoil. Meanwhile, Falchon couldn't ignore his suspicions. Night after night, Orneth and Demdor rode deep into the woods, and he sensed there was more to their actions than they let on.
Seeking an outlet for her emotions, Orneth was often drawn to Falchon's training area. It became the one place where she could release her anger and despair without fear of judgment. There, she unleashed her rage on the training dummies, imagining with each strike that she was piercing Falquando’s throat. She yelled with fury, as though her cries might somehow reach him beyond the grave. Her voice echoed through the air, charged with the raw intensity of her pain.
The relentless blows began to take their toll. The muscles in her arms ached, sweat poured down her face, and exhaustion crept into her body. But still, she pressed on, driven by an unyielding need to release every ounce of her anguish and rage. For Orneth, this ritual wasn’t just a way to vent—it was a fierce determination to confront the pain that threatened to consume her.
Orneth's mind was a storm of emotions, anger and pain swirling uncontrollably inside her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she turned to face Falchon, who stood ready with his sword in one hand and shield in the other. His steady gaze met hers, and he challenged her firmly, "Try me!"
Without thinking, Orneth lunged at him. Demdor's sword flashed in the sunlight as she screamed, her voice carrying the full weight of her rage and grief. Her movements were wild and chaotic, driven by the fury that had been building up inside her for so long. But Falchon was a skilled fighter. He blocked her strikes with his shield and deflected her blows with practiced ease, keeping himself steady despite the storm she brought to the fight.
For several intense minutes, the clash of their swords rang out, a fierce symphony of metal against metal. Orneth's screams echoed through the forest, raw and primal, her frustration spilling out into every swing. Her emotions completely consumed her, and it was impossible to predict what she might do next.
Falchon, though calm on the surface, grew more concerned with each moment. He could see that Orneth's rage was pushing her to the brink, and he knew this couldn’t continue. Though he matched her in skill, he realized the danger of sparring with someone so overcome by emotion.
"Orneth, we must stop," he called, his voice clear and commanding. "This isn't safe for either of us."
At first, Orneth didn't seem to hear him. But as he repeated himself, she began to slow down, her movements growing less erratic. She looked at Falchon, her chest heaving with exhaustion and frustration. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what came over me." Falchon nodded in understanding, watching her warily. "It's alright," he said. "But we must find a way to help you deal with your anger. This is not healthy for you." Orneth knew he was right. Ever since Falquando had entered her life, she had been struggling with her emotions, unable to find a way to control them. She had tried everything from meditation to venting to friends, but nothing seemed to work. As she stood there, catching her breath, she gazed out at the beauty of the forest, the warmth of the sun filtering down through the leaves, and the sweet song of birds in the distance. For the first time in a while, she felt a sense of peace. "You're right," she said finally, looking back at Falchon. "I need to find a better way to deal with my anger."
Orneth closed her eyes, trying to hide the turmoil within her. Falchon's voice brought her back to the present. "I know you have much anger inside yourself at the moment." His words were soft, almost soothing. Orneth sighed, feeling the tension in her body dissipating slightly. "You have a strong right hand. I am quite impressed," Falchon continued, trying to lighten the mood. Orneth's response was sour. "I am not trying to impress. I am tired of feeling sad and defeated all the time. I have this anger inside and I don't know how to control it." Her voice was heavy with emotion as she threw Demdor's sword to the ground. Falchon looked at her with concern. "You told me once that I should channel my anger into something good. I did. I learned the skills of swordfighting and I have made much use of myself in the army." He picked up her sword. "I can at least teach you some techniques if you want to fight?"
Orneth took a deep breath, touched by his attempt to cheer her up. "I am sorry. I have not been myself lately." Falchon smiled and said, "I have noticed. You have been through a lot. I can only imagine how it must be to have lost a hand and an eye." Orneth looked at him in agony, her heart heavy with the weight of her past. "There is much more that has happened as well, Falchon." He looked at her, his eyes searching her face for clues. "Hmm...I have had my suspicions. Do you want to tell me?" Orneth stroked his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin against her fingertips. She knew she had to tell him soon. "I just need to be ready." He took her hand and pulled her into his embrace. "Whenever you are ready..."
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