Post by Huka on Jun 2, 2012 0:41:03 GMT -6
Opening his eyes, Til looked at the dark confinements of his own room, the scented candles are long since dead out overnight, and in his large bed, he felt the warmth that belonged to only his dearest beloved R’ha Muram. His beloved since childhood and still is.
Caressing her face and neck softly, Til closed his eyes as he tried to feel her love through his lessened touch as she purred in response.
Just to know she was with him, Til felt a love that he long for since that accursed war that have finally ended about twelve ursian cycles ago. Getting out of the bed like a ghost, he still possessed his old skills as an assassin and warrior despite trying to forget his transgressions.
Reaching for his silken red-and-golden robes, he wrapped it around him, adjusting his respirator, and grabbing his skrill-headed cane before sneaking out.
In the bed, R’ha opened her eyes, having waked up at the same time her lover did.
Walking through the torch-lit halls of the Muram Keep, occasionally greeted by clan guardsmen, still in the traditional garbs of desert robes and ancient based armor, Til allowed himself to think how much have changed.
The Muram have grown to be the most powerful clan on this continent and a renowned representative in the new Sangheilian government with the Arbiter Thel ‘Vadumee as the supreme kaidon of his people after the foolish civil war that occurred thanks to close-minded idiots and selfish members of the Humans ONI faction.
With the help of some old Human-Covenant war veterans, including Til and many members of the Seraphim helped quell it down before things got out of hand.
Despite all of this new power, the Muram Keep remain relatively the same, maybe a big larger with the new clans joining and all. He liked that his home was the same; it allowed him to breathe easier.
Coming to a balcony that oversaw the Helian Desert, the aging Sangheili cleared his throat as he looked to see the suns haven’t risen over the distant mountains yet.
Inhaling, he breathed steadily as a wrinkled hand-still disformed from his burning wounds in the past-gripped at his robes over his right heart. Closing his eyes as a cool morning breeze flew at his body, but he felt little of it on his face thanks to his respirator.
Exhaling, he remembered the past; he remembered his youth in this very place, training hard to become like his older brother, meeting R’ha during one of his training sessions, and at age, left to attend the Shaleel War College after slaying a Sand Wyrm on his own.
Opening his eyes, he looked to the sea of sands, cold and unwelcoming in its dark nights and as hot and ruthless as the suns in its bright days.
Two extremes, never meeting in the middle, two sides of a coin, which is what this desert stands for…, balance.
Gripping his heart harder as he started to remember his first, and only lance during his time in the army, in his glorious ascension from a Minor Domo to a Major Domo.
Forcing his mind to remember the time in between that, the Great Hunt of Templar’s Rest, the place that changed his very fate and destiny. Til’s eyes watered at the remembrance of his dearest of brothers; Legra ‘Adentee and Sorsa ‘Xirsasai.
He haven’t heard from them in a quarter-cycle; Legra still stands as a representative at the Sangheili Council and magistrate of Templar’s Rest, and Sorsa still trying to readjust to living in retirement in his own clan’s icy-cold keep.
Those two have been with him to the very end, as was his old mentor Rakath ‘V'keeleai. He have gotten messages from him every once in a while, constantly moving around, recently he was on Earth, working as law enforcer or teacher for human cubs, or something like that.
Smiling at these old memories, he refused to allow himself to remember the dark times of his life; being the ruthless and nearly mindless Inquisitor for the Prophets during the late ursian cycles of the war.
Focusing his will and heart, he felt himself relaxing, and loosened his grip on his chest. Placing his hand on the top of his cane, Til continued to look to the horizon, until he felt a presence behind.
Slowly gripping the head of his cane, he started to pull it-and the blade was attached to it-when he heard a very welcoming voice, “Father?”
Exhaling, Til relaxed, and allowed his visitor to approach him. Turning his head, he saw it was the younger of his twin sons, Laka, walked beside him.
Looking at his son with pride, Til could see himself in his son, but his elegance is obviously from his mother. In the prime of his life, Laka looked almost exactly like Til before his encounter with the Moon Queen, but a bit taller. Dressed in blue robes and pieces of Zealot armor, Laka looked out to the desert.
“You still dream about grandfather?” Laka asked concerned. Til shook his head, “No, after the war, he doesn’t haunt my dreams no longer.”
Nodding in relief, Laka looked at his father with glimmering green eyes. Looking back at his son, Til was about to say something, when he heard more footsteps, and he turned to see Laka’s older, and more bulkier, twin Maru and their mother walking to the balcony.
“I knew you would be out here, my love.” R’ha said, her beauty never dulled with age and voice still as sweet and radiant as a song. “The keep’s guards confirmed it as well.” Maku chuckled with a deep voice.
“It is good to have my family at my side on this day.” Til said happily.
“It is always good,” R’ha said, stepped beside her lover, dressed in luxurious robes that befit the queen that she is, and placed a soft hand on his more rough hand, “You have done much to make it so.”
That choked Til abit on that, “I haven’t done much. I just did what was right after cycles of countless mistakes.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, even Kaidons.” R’ha replied, her voice as merciful as ever. “In the end, you knew what was right and corrected your wrongs like a true warrior and hero.”
“I am no hero.” Til said sadly. Then two hands gripped his shoulders and he looked to see his sons with serious but kind eyes, “You are a Hero, father.” They said in unison before Maru followed with, “You are a hero who have fought for what we thought was real in the age of the Covenant, you are a hero who wanted to believe in for countless ages and remain loyal to our so-called benefactors, and you are a hero who saw the evils of what you have done, and fought against all odds.’
“Despite your countless wounds and defeats, you stood against tradition, and kept on moving. You have many loyal friends who stood by your side, even though you turned against them, and when you realized the faults, you were more than ready to stand by them again.” Laka said.
‘We will never condemn you on your mistakes, and we will always be with you because you fought for the clan, not yourself, you fought for us. And we will do the same for you, father.” The twin finished as one.
Til was completely moved by what his family have said to him, never did he imagine them to think of him like him. Tears fell freely from his eyes. “T-thank you. I love you all.” He said, his words more to everyone that he loved out in this immense galaxy.
“Look the suns rises.” R’ha said. The four looked to see the rising star beaming red over the mountains and to his family worry and surprise, Til lifted his hand and pulled his respirator off his face, breathing hard, but he steadied himself. His mandibles were pale, vicious-looking, and his lower mandibles seem to limp from cycles of being concealed in the respirator, but he accepted himself.
Moving his arms, Til took his wife in his arm, wrapping it around her, as his sons stood at either sides of him.
“Look to the East, Urs pierces the shadows of night,” Til said, citing a very ancient prayer.
“Thrusting aside all demons and beasts that threaten us,” R’ha followed.
“Showering the endless sea of our ancestors’ lost souls with his guiding light,” Laka replied.
“His son and daughter following close behind, warming their people’s hearts and bodies from the merciless cold.” Maru followed right after his brother.
“Brightening the skies to their whim, warming the strong, and burning the weak,”
“We stand tall as we walk on the sands of the Mother,”
“As the dune raises high as the mountains, we see all, and fear none,”
“We are Muram, people of the Mother and her ocean,” The family said as one after their rotation.
“And we live to prove our love to our Mother and enjoy…her warm…embrace.” Til finished as the suns started to shine on the family, his eye starting to dull and glaze, his mandibles moving in silence on his last words, before leaning slightly forward.
“That was beautiful dear.” R’ha said with her eyes glistening as she felt Til’s body start to lean heavily on her and his body felt stiff. She knew.
“Father?” Maru called, feeling the sudden heaviness as well. Looking at him, the Zealot realized his father’s eyes were closed and his skin seemed to pale somewhat.
Scared to let him out, Maru shook his father, but no response. Sensing his brother’s dismay, Laka looked at well, and realized what have just occurred.
Lowering their father’s body, the twins tried to revive him, even Maru tried to press his respirator to his face, but nothing worked. The two looked at one another and looked to their mother, who stood perfectly still, looking over to the Hurian Desert, seeing the Temple of the Ancestor in the great distance.
“You finally let go of your suffering. You are free.” She said before finally crying in her hands as the warmth of the suns and the welcoming breeze of night came together to a harmony.
Maru and Laka looked one another in disbelief and looked down at the body of their father before crying as well, carefully holding it in their arms.
Soon enough the keep guards rushed in to investigate with energy glaives in hand, their eyes looking at the corpse of their Kaidon and his sons.
The Captain of the Guard urged one of his warriors to inform the Council that the Kaidon is dead, who immediately did as told.
Several days later, the funeral of the Kaidon started in the midday at the Temple of the Ancestors, attended nearly the whole continent, and consisted of the clan’s allies and personal friends of the Kaidon himself. Even a handful of human officials appeared in the funeral, standing outside of the crowd to better see the procession.
Uplifted by six honor guardsmen and escorted by the family, they carried the sarcophagus of the fallen Kaidon, the risen image of the Inquisitor held his old energy glaive, decorated from cycles of battles, in its golden claws as the body itself was mummified and fitted with the armor of the Kaidon.
Refusing to allow Til to be dressed in his old Inquisitor armor, because he wasn’t the mad killer he was before. He was reborn to the warrior before his tragedies.
Nearing the entrance, the black and white armor of the Seraphim stood in formation at the sides of the walkway, making an arch of energy swords as the mummified body was paraded in between them.
At the entrance of the tomb, the Kaidon’s dearest allies stood to greet the coming body of their fallen comrade with his mourning family;
Legra ‘Adentee, dressed in glistened green robes that seemed to be made of scales, and looking just as sad as any mourner.
Sorsa ‘Xirasai, easily one of the largest Sangheili in the whole ceremony, his dulling black skin glistening of the sun, with his black-and-grey robes fitting perfectly on his massive figure, pieces of armor barely noticeable underneath.
L’sae ‘Fulthamee, his bronze eyes dull with sorrow whilst wearing robes similar in design to Muram wear, maybe to respect his fallen teacher.
R’ha Katolai, the High Inquisitor wearing pure white robes and his head lowered in mourning for his fellow Inquisitor.
Rakath ‘V’keelaii and his daughter Roma ‘Roman stood on the other side of the door, dressed in their white clothing to pay respect to their fallen friend.
Ship Master Phma ‘Refumai stood next to Rakath and Tavise with eyes wide with caffeine but still remaining respectful.
They bowed their heads and said their goodbyes as the procession continued on.
Getting the body inside the temple, the honor guardsmen put Til to rest in his given tomb that was decorated with his own saga and all of his most prized trophies from his life inside.
Hanging on the back of the wall, overlooking the coffin for a eternity was the skulls of three Moon Queens.
The twins looked at the room grimly before paying their respects to their father and left outside the door. R’ha placed a hand on the brazen face of her husband’s coffin, and blinked a tear. “We will meet again, my love.” She vowed before revealing a necklace with a old tooth on it, “Your love will always be with me.”
With that, she left.
Sealing the tomb, the guardsmen walked away, and burnt each torch that they have passed, leaving behind old runes carved on the door, saying,
“Hero of Muram. His soul will always be apart of ours.”
