Avari paused for a moment at the threshold of the hut, delicately sliding his bare feet into a dainty pair of leather slippers. The soles were so thin as to be mostly useless for walking outdoors, but that wasn't something he needed to worry about. Elegant in their fragile simplicity, they tapered gracefully around his toes, his light footsteps almost entirely silent as he stepped outside. The sun was still high in the sky, though the cool autumn air nipped at the flesh barely concealed beneath his fine clothing. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the light, the burning halos that surrounded the figures of the crowd before him shrinking behind their backs until he could make out their faces.

Everyone was here. The entire village had assembled in a silent mass, huddled together on the open green space between the humble collection of thatched cottages that made up his home. They were all looking at him, but none were able to meet his gaze. There was kindness in their eyes, but it was overshadowed by pity, and an unspoken grief that poured into him, surging like floodwaters; leaving him hollow. He took a careful step forward, trying to still the slight tremor that was creeping up his slender legs. Another step, and another, as the familiar crowd parted to form a path that led towards the river.

There was movement to the side, someone breaking away from the group to approach him. He smiled tenderly at the familiar face of his sister, her eyes shining with unspent tears, as she came to a halt before him, blocking his path.

"Avari, I-" She clasped both of his hands tightly in her own, distress flowing out through her fingertips as gentle tremors.

"Sina, it's alright. This was my choice…"

"Brother, please… You don't need to do this. You can't." He wished she would spare him this. No amount of pleading would be able to break through his resolve, but her words still pierced his heart with icy daggers of fear.

"I can. I must…" He gently guided their hands down to press against Sina's swollen belly, "You have a new life inside you. Let me go, so that I can give both of you a chance."

"Brother…" Avari shook his head lightly, untangling his fingers from hers, and lifted a hand to rest under her chin. He tilted her face up so that their eyes met, and it was almost like looking into a mirror. Her eyes were the exact same shade as his own; warm and deep as the earth beneath their feet, though glazed with tears and tinged red at the corners.

"Please, you have to be strong for me Sina. You've built a life for yourself here. You have to live it, you understand? For both of us." His voice cracked a little as he spoke these words, a desperate plea barely disguised as encouragement. Sina wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down into a tight embrace, her rounded belly cradled between their two bodies. He breathed in her warmth, cherishing the beating of her heart against his chest, then stepped back, taking her hand in his.

He pulled her gently back towards the crowd, his free arm extending out towards a rugged young man with sandy hair pulled back in a rough braid. A calloused hand reached for his, its dexterous fingers peppered with smudges of coal and the rough remnants of scrapes and burns. Sina's husband, Bryn, was the village blacksmith. Apprenticed to Avari's father as a boy, they had grown up together, almost as brothers. He was a good man. Strong, dependable as a boulder, with a booming laugh that could fill a room. There was no trace of that laughter now; his eyes were downcast, and the silence between them was thick with shared pain.

Avari guided his sister to stand by her husband's side, linking them together, the faintest trace of a grateful smile tugging at his mouth as Bryn pulled her close, a muscled arm wrapping around her shaking shoulders. Bryn lifted his head, looking wordlessly into Avari's eyes. There was no need to speak, they understood each other perfectly. Sina was Bryn's entire world, just as she was Avari's. Both boys had orbited her sun-like smile since childhood. She would be safe. Loved.

The trio lingered in silence for a time, as if spellbound, the strangling grip of sorrow weaving a cage in the air, stealing their breath away. Pain ripped through Avari's chest as he tore himself away from them, it felt as though a fist was clenching around his heart; squeezing the life out of him. He fought back the tears that threatened to erupt at any moment, swallowing a sob before it could fully form in his throat. He took a cautious step back, pulling his hands away from the reassuring warmth of human contact. He felt sick, and it took all the strength he had left to still the trembling of his legs, keep them moving forward.

There was a muffled cry behind him, followed by low comforting whispers as Bryn cradled his wife against his chest, soothing his fingers through her long hair. Avari didn't look back at them. He wasn't strong enough. He would falter. A single glance would rip through him and tear out all his courage. One step, another step. On and on through the eerie stillness and shadowy figures of everyone he had ever known. They were separate from him now, a world away. He could feel the tenuous strands of connection straining, ready to snap. To them, clad as he was in purest white, he was little more than a ghost. The whisper of a memory, fading fast. The tranquil youth they had known since the day he was born had died the instant he stepped out of the hut.

His eyes fixed firmly ahead, Avari made his way to the river's edge in silence. No one else stepped up to say their farewells. The seconds stretched out into what felt like an eternity, his thoughts a numbing fog that couldn't quite snap into focus. He supposed it would be easier this way, so he didn't try to fight it; letting his mind drift away with the rippling current of the waters that glistened under the sunset glow of the sky. Soon he would be drifting himself, far away from the life he'd known, towards the inevitable.

Two men waited for him at the river bank in stoney silence, unmoving and expressionless. The sight of them dragged Avari back to reality like a knife twisting in his stomach.

"Father." His own voice rang cold from his mouth; there was so little of him left now, just the aching bite of fear and a void where his heart should be. A short nod. The slightest flicker of eye contact.

"My Son…" There was so little left to say, and while Iain had always radiated a glowing warmth towards those around him, he was a man of few words. His voice sounded unsteady, barely above a whisper, and he was swaying slightly; his poweful build so fragile it looked like he would shatter at any moment. A tender reed staring into the might of the oncoming storm. Avari didn't know what he was supposed to do, he wanted nothing more than to cling to his father's legs like he did as a small child, but the eyes of the crowd burned into the back of his skull and held him in place. He couldn't break down, not now. Not when there was so little time.

"It's going to be alright…" This was a lie of course, nothing was right about this; it was just what was going to happen. His father was the first to lose control, legs buckling beneath him as he crumpled into a pile, hot tears slipping down his cheaks as a devastated wail escaped through clenched teeth. No one spoke. No one dared. The young man who stood beside them averted his eyes out of respect, instead casting them over the narrow boat tethered in the water behind him.

"Avari, I-…"

"Don't. Please…" Avari spoke over him, his tone a little sharper than he had intended, reaching down to clasp his father's hand and help pull him back to his feet. "Just promise me you'll take care of yourself. Of Sina. She's going to need you when the baby comes."

"I'm so proud of you, my Son."

"I know."

"I love you."

"I love you too." He almost choked on these words, and instintively clamped his mouth shut, the tight muscles of his jaw shaking with the effort. Iain understood, and pulled him into a bearlike embrace, far too tight but so very precious to Avari that it didn't matter.

The young man stepped forward as they broke apart, nodding his head slightly but not quite able to make eye contact. Avari didn't really blame him. Marcus was a few years older, but they had played together as boys, back when the world seemed like a kinder place. He supposed that, to him, the honor of the task he had been given must feel more like a betrayal.

His father cupped Avari's face in his large hands, unwilling to let him go, but knowing that their time was up. The sun would soon start to get low in the sky, and they journey ahead would be dangerous in the dark. A soft warm breath flowed over the top of Avari's head as his father leaned in to press a tender kiss into his hair, hands shaking with a grief that had yet to fully mature. It would crash over him with devastating ferocity soon enough, but in this moment he did nothing but cherish the brave young man that tried so hard not to shiver in his arms. The moment ended far too soon. It was time.

Avari raised his hands, wrists held softly in front of his chest, fingers knitting together as if in prayer. He nodded almost imperceptably at Marcus, a silent blessing, forgiveness in every movement. The young man cleared his throat but the words he wanted to say were out of reach; an unspoken apology dancing in the breeze. He pulled a white ribbon from the leather pouch on his belt and approached Avari with something akin to reverence.

The ribbon was soft against his skin, but it still pinched as the knot was pulled tight, binding his wrists together, palms facing. He watched quietly as Marcus took a deep shuddering breath before steeling himself and gesturing a hand towards the boat. Avari stepped up obediently as Marcus helped him onto the deck, and then guided him carefully past the slumbering mass of a donkey that had already been coaxed aboard. He took a seat on a low wooden bench that had been placed in the subtle shade of a gossamer white canopy. The pained silence stretched between the two young men as Avari settled himself down, his face deliberately turned away from the village he was about to leave behind forever.

The current tugged at them gently as Marcus untethered the rope that anchored them to the land, and steered the boat towards the centre of the river with a long wooden pole. The village gradually shrunk away from them, but Avari couldn't bring himself to look back. Instead, he stared out over the bow, drinking in the warmth of the setting sun, before the light could be swallowed up by the treetops as the forest closed in around them.