491. Goodbyes I
The sudden rain fell across the Iyr. There were very few who understood the sorrow which was the rain, but there were some Iyrmen who understood that the time had come. The Iyr had changed over the course of the entire year, all for this very moment.
The rain fell atop Sarot’s shoulders, and he knew he could finally say it. “I have to go.” He stood, turning to look at the family members around him.
Jarot and Mulrot looked up at him, and seeing the look within his eyes, they bowed their heads. Sarot had little time to do what he had to, so quickly made his way out of the family estate, while Mulrot prepared the items he needed.
He had someone he needed to speak with before he left.
“Adam,” Sarot called, drenched in the rain as he entered the shared family estate. “We must talk.”
Adam looked up at the older Iyrman from under the shelter which had been hastily formed to protect them under the rain. He followed the Iyrman out, allowing himself to get wet under the rain.
“I will be going.”
“Going?”
“Yes. I will go, and as a pillar of the Rot family, I will be no more.”
Adam furrowed his brows, trying to understand what the old Iyrman was telling him. Sarot was one of the most powerful Rot family members, and he was going? He’d be no more? “Is it because of Strom?”
Sarot smiled. “We must know what we must know. I know that I must leave. I must give my life so that the Iyr may continue to thrive. I give my life, representing the entire Rot family, which includes your children.”
Adam wasn’t sure what to say from the sudden words. Complicated feelings swirled within him. “Thank you.”
“When my brother asked you to come and see us every morning, he asked me to speak with you more often. I refused. It was not because I did not wish to speak with you, but there was no need for me, who was leaving soon, to approach you so suddenly. I do not know what you think of me. Perhaps you think poorly of me because of what we did to your children. I do not know, and it is not that I do not care, but it is through my actions I show you what I am, not my words.”
Adam slowly bowed his head, understanding what Sarot was getting at.
“It is shameful for me to ask, but when Jarot or Jirot have a child, will you name one after me?” Sarot asked.
Adam slowly nodded his head, feeling his throat tighten up.
The old man smiled. “It is a shame I will not be able to see them grow. I worry for them because of my brother, but since you are their father, I have no need to worry.”
Adam nodded again, blinking away the sting within his eyes. “Yeah.”
Sarot placed a hand on his shoulder. “I regret that we did not grow closer. You, who have done so much for our family, should not have had to worry about your children or your place within our family.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Adam replied, clearing his throat.
The drums began to echo through the Iyr, and Sarot looked up, towards the falling rain. “Come, Adam.”
“There will be another Sarot who will support the Rot family soon,” Sarot said, taking his brother’s hands in his own. “You must wash away the shame that I was unable to.”
“What shame do you have?” Jarot asked. “You have gone for them, and they will know that when they are older.”
“Since they will not remember me, you must tell them my stories.”
“I will,” Jarot promised.
Tarot nodded, and watched as his brother returned back to the family estate.
Sarot wrapped a heavy cloak around himself, and Mulrot placed a scarf around his shoulders, before kissing his forehead. He donned his shield, which was blue, the colour of his family tattoo, and raised his axe. The Iyrmen cheered and clapped, forming a pathway to allow him to leave, and he walked out to see the other families and their Grandmasters stepping out.
He eventually met with Rangak, Anakan, and Xaool, the Grandmasters who had been born from their elder sibling’s retirement. He raised his axe towards them, and they raised their own weapons, causing the Iyrmen around them to cheer.
They marched their way along the roads, each funnelling towards a section within the Iyr where Elder Wrath would call for them to meet. Yet, it was not Elder Wrath who was waiting for them, but Elder Peace, who wore a red bracelet, along with dozens of Shamans.
As they approached, they realised it was not a red bracelet, but a snake.
The Shamans called out the names of the Iyrmen who had been chosen, and handed out a magic weapon to them, each with at least a Basic enchantment.
Lokat handed Sarot an axe made of deathsteel. “Your Nephew enchanted this axe.”
Sarot held the axe tight within his axe, feeling the uneasy chill from the steel. “I will not shame him.”
The Iyrmen gathered together, while Elder Shaman stepped up to begin the prayers. The prayer was a tale of old, of the First Iyrmen, and the Mother who had saved them. She spoke of the history of the Iyrmen, from the Blackwater Crisis, to the most recent days.
Rukhs dove down towards the group, before veering off to one side. More than a hundred rukhs had been gathered, one for each Grandmaster. As night fell, the Iyrmen approached the rukhs, which could go fight toe to toe with a Dragon. They leapt onto the creatures, which screeched with a wicked scream, before they shot upwards like loosened bolts.
A large, red serpent darted around the rukhs, before leading them forward. The sky shattered, thunder rumbled, and lightning fell, for an instant illuminating the force of Iyrmen which had gathered, and as they approached the crack, they disappeared.
Those within the Iyr jolted, as the temperature dropped, and the comfort which the Iyr had provided them, suddenly vanished.
Lanarot looked up towards her brother, who had stopped reading the book, his eyes staring at the closed window, shock on his face. The girl began to cry, as did many of the young children all across the Iyr.
Sonarot picked Lanarot up, who continued to screech and cry, while Adam covered his shuddering triplets.
“What happened?” Adam asked, looking to his Aunt.
“We must know what we must know,” Sonarot said, who, as the Family Head, knew nothing about what just happened.
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