It had seemed to Hadlén like only seconds had passed, possibly minutes but no greater measure of time than that. Much time had passed however and soon the dawn would be breaking over the Hills of Symol that lay on the horizon.

His fellow clerics had left and the pyre had burned almost completely out. Now only scattered embers still danced in the thicket of debris. They dance playfully like children without care or understanding of the tru nature of their playground. Hadlén, on the other hand, could think of nothing else.

The death of his brother Lowan weighed heavily on Hadlén’s shoulders. He couldn’t help but blame himself. He knew that Lowan wouldn’t have blamed him for what had happened in battle, but that fact was of little solice at the moment.

He tried to make sense of all the events that had occured within the past couple days with no success. Hadlén knew that something had to be done…

… he just wasn’t sure how he was going to do it.