Darkness persisted, for there was nothing nor no one to illuminate up the arch of heaven with a light to make it retreat. The King was dead, and the Queen laid in a long sleep from which may never woke; their children, dispersed along the ethereal confines, had fallen through endless spears, hurled by the hordes of the enemy, the betrayer, of God Himself. And the long winter covered the profane earth with icy fingers. Rivers no longer flowed, and the pines that still held to live bent under the weight of layer by layer of snow. Desolation was the only thing walking between them. And it was all my fault.
Ice bit his soles, leaving behind a bloody path; however, he must keep forward, for that was his penitence. Naked, his body moaned between fevered trembles, and he wrapped his arms around in a desperate attempt to warm himself. Each step was agony, but he must keep on, without stopping, to the east -always to the east-, hoping there, at the end of the word where everything was renewed, the warm arms of his mother would welcome him. A hope that was slowly dying in his heart, for he was beginning to understand the scope of his actions; or rather, of his inaction in letting the war rage. Maybe his mother, as well as his siblings, were at the moment already in the hands of death.
Had there been stars or the dark silhouette of his mother in the sky, he would had known that half the night had passed at the moment when his eyes caught the glow of a bonfire. Cautiously, he let his feet carried him to a camp of travelers who were telling stories by a dying firelight.
There weren't more than four persons, three of which were too young to know other than harsh winter; the other, a woman of noble white hairs and a gentle smile, who was playing with rheumatic fingers a zither that had seen better days. Without a doubt, they were relatives: you could see the affinity in the shape of their eyes and in the unkempt, curly hair that covered all their heads.
'"Lord of the Thousand Fires on the high mounts of Saillan, stretch Your sweet hand to me. Lady of the silver light over the low valleys of Tyar, watch over my children who march to war, summoned by the forces of Diuren Garan,"' was saying the old woman, 'so sung the daughter of Sil Ebi, of tender eyes, when she saw the banners of the army disappearing with the King'.
The old woman watched the newcomer when light illuminated his face. She didn't stopped playing the beautiful melody, but invited him to approach with a nod of her whit head and a smile that could have melted the snow around them.
'Who would have known, oh Wide-eyed Lady, what war would unleash?' She continued, her eyes held on the newcomer. 'Nor Radelaan nor Suravien, who hold the columns of heaven; nor Felaan nor Varien, who hold the high polar pillars with strong arms; not even the son of the Queen, who lead the hordes of God; no one could have predict the terrible treason'. But the daughter of Sil Ebi, of beautiful hair, did not look away, not even when night covered the world, but she waited on the hill for his children to return victorious from the slaughter of men. Day after day she looked to sunset; and day after day, her heart broke a little more. Night after night, she prayed to the White-eyes Lady to watch over her children; and night after night, she felt the cold touch of death at her back...'
Tears ran down the Exiled One's cheeks when the old woman sang the fate of the children of Ada Ebi, because that story was particularly dear to his heart. He knew that Hero, strong as a lion, would lead the hosts of Diuren Garan towards the Fortress of God and would be the first to die under its impregnable walls; that Esro, clever as a fox, would be poisoned by his own friends when the suspicions of a betrayal would begin to intoxicate their envious hearts; and that young Aro, gentle as his grandfather, would face the Sword of God in unequal combat.
'... And the daughter of Sil Ebi cried months later, when, on black wings, the death of his children was declared. Despair seized of her limbs, and she was about to commit the Highest Sin, knowing the will of God would fall over mortal human beings. So she returned to her house. took a knife from the kitchen and went to the room of her newly born grandchildren, for she didn't want to see them suffer. And when she was about to commit murderer, when the hand of Sanelo tenderly held her wrist, and he said: "Beautiful Ada Ebi of sweet eyes, what madness settled in your mind that to the Abode of Death you wanted to send your grandchildren?" "My children are dead. Hero leaded the hosts of Diuren Garan until the Fortress of God and died the first under its impregnable walls of Kasatan. Esro was poisoned by his own friends, when the suspicion of betrayal intoxicated their envious hearts. And my dear Aro, gentle as my father, faced the Sword of God in unequal combat. Now the Wrath of God will fall upon the mortal human beings, and the desire to see my grandchildren suffer an unmerited punishment is not in my soul", said Ada Ebi. Then Sanelo said...'
But the Exiled One did not need to hear the words Sanelo told to the daughter of Sil Ebi, because that story moved something in his memories; something that confused him, that made him anxious, that hurt him deep in his soul. So he covered his ears with his hands and hid his face between his knees, letting tears fall down frozen to his feet. The memories that old woman made him relive were too painful, too recent, and his heart wouldn't resist them. But the old woman kept talking, louder and louder, so the Exiled One would listen.
'"Don't you see that in your grandchildren live on your children and the hope of this world? You must take them to the west, there where we met for the first time. There you will tell them who they are and what their fate is". So Ada Ebi took everything she could and went out with her grandchildren in arms, looking for the forest where Sanelo had conquered her heart, to tell them that they were Adhero, Sanesro e Idaro Ebi, destined to fight in revenge of the hosts of Diuren Garan against God.'
The old woman let the last note of the zither vanished in the silence of the night. Only then did she seemed to notices the nakedness of her guest. Immediately, she ordered the children to cook dinner, readied the tents and give the newcomer a blanket to cover his body. The Exiled One, however, didn't pay any attention to the tender hands that covered him, nor to the voices that asked him if he was well, if he needed something or what was his name. Lost in the pain the story had awaken, he just wanted to cry the misfortune of Ada Ebi, her children, and grandchildren, to which he had loved so much and had abandoned to their doom.
'You are here, again by my side, my dear Sanelo,' whispered the old woman to his ear while covering his back. Then fever took hold of his mind and he slid into unconsciousness.
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