53rd of Frost, 120 Steel...?
Sunlight fell between the trees. Columns of light in an otherwise gently shaded area. The grass was green, far greener than anything Talon had ever seen before. He felt as though he were standing in a portrait of the world as it should have been. Before the Sundering and the era of despair that followed it. Everything seemed more vibrant. Slowly he got to his feet. The muscles of his body protested mightily with the effort and he thought he heard a soft chuckle. He was still clothed as he had been in the Warrens. Gone was the cavernous darkness that seemed to draw pain and suffering to it like a net. Above him was the open sky, blocked only by the leaves of gently swaying trees. Where was he? How had he gotten there? He remembered vividly the moments leading up to what he had thought were to be his death.
Aoren had acted bravely. The abomination had been wreathed in flames commanded by him and the other two elemental mages beside them. Telion and Rickter. Talon’s heart ached. He had failed them. He had left them behind. But it was the price to be paid for his foolishness. He shuddered to think of the state that his bondmates were in. The loss of a companion was a harrowing thing that he had experienced once. Dimly, he thought he could still feel them. It was as though he was looking for them across a great divide. He wondered if other Avialae who had passed on felt as he did in that moment.
Talon inspected himself. He looked down at his body. He did not know what he expected death to be like. He felt solid. The ground beneath him felt as though it were real. The breeze on his face felt real. He could smell a mix of winter and summer on the winds. The crisp cool of the Northern air swirling with the fragrance of summer flowers. It was peaceful. Finally, once he felt he had his bearings, he turned his attention to the man who was standing just an arm’s length away.
He was human. He was shorter than Talon, as most humans were. There was a sturdiness to his build and even without having to see it, Talon knew that this man was a force to be reckoned with. With the rich mahogany skin of a man born far to the south, he looked stern but handsome. There was a quiet strength to his features that put Talon at ease. His hair was braided and his silver eyes had a near ethereal quality to them in the sunlight. He wore the armor of a knight. It was a pristine white and gold. The sunlight streaming through the trees seemed to seek him out. It crowned him in a halo of silver-white light that radiated a warm gentleness. As Talon stared at him, he felt a resonating in his heart and in his soul. He knew this man. He did not know how and he did not know why but he did. Something in his eyes felt like he was staring into a mirror. Talon recognized the symbol upon the man’s breastplate.
“I thought the Dawnmartyrs were gone…” The man smiled. There was a sadness in that smile. Talon felt it. More than felt it. He thought that if he concentrated, he might have known why the sadness was there.
“I know you.” He searched the man’s face. “Who are you?”
