Everyone is given a choice. To live, to die...to protect, to condemn...to stay, or to leave... all these decisions define who we are. In some cases, at least, where my decision was concerned, it defined WHAT I was.
I know that it's that that doesn't make much sense, but prehaps where the Gods are concerned, things don't have to.
My name? Heh, once it was Samuel...once...but no more. I led what many would call an extraordinary life I suppose, for me, it was just the way things were. Maybe at first it was an adventure, but after a while, it became who I was. I went from a young trainee in greys to a Herald dressed in those honored Whites.
This, is my tale. One of those not heard yet in Velgarth, but one that has added a strand, prehaps, in the tapestry of life.
When I first stared into those azure eyes that belonged to my Companion, Sveni, I thought that the very sky had come to embrace me, and I knew as her mind touched my own that nothing would ever be the same. "My name is Sveni, and you, Samuel, are my chosen." How long ago were those words spoken to me? I cannot remember, but always it will seem like yesterday. I doubt any Herald forgets their Choosing.
My first weeks at the Collegium at Haven were a whirlwind of people and lessons that, at first, I simply could not comprhend. The only true solace from the hustle and bustle was Sveni. She spoke to my heart as no other ever had before. She may have had the form of a horse, but in her heart she was something different all together.
She aided me through the hardships of learning my Foreseeing during times of war in Valdemar, where I would wake up screaming as I felt my flesh sear from the fires of Karse, who is now our ally. Then the death bell would toll, and we would know another Herald was gone.
The companions mourned each time the knell sounded...I don't think a lot of people knew that. They would gather and bow their heads, vigilant and aware that another of their number was gone too. Now I wonder if they were mourning so much more.
Queen Selenay would hold her hold her head high, trying to remain strong for her people, but there was a pain in her eyes, one that was further reflected in the eyes of the monarch's own Herald.
My whites, I believe, were hurried upon me because we had lost so many to the fires that haunted my dreams, but Sveni told me that every thread had been earned. At the time I had believed it, even though my heart hammered in my chest every time that I looked at them. They had been earned, but not through my work. Through the lives of others, just as my own death would one day herald the rise of another trainees being forced into the role of soldier. None of us ever see it that way though. No...we see it as a sacrifice justly made for freedom and for lives.