Epilogue Fyral looked back at his father. Faize had stayed away from most of the other Eldarians, only really talking to either them or the Limurians when they had to trade for food. As a hunter, Faize was superior than any of the others, and as a father, he'd always tried to be there for Fyral. He knew four different languages because of this. The native Limurian and Eldarian he understood, since those were spoken the most on the planet. Then there was that odd language that was used by the people who came to visit on the ship twice a year, and Fyral didn't mind that one. But it was the fourth language, the one only his father spoke. They used that one in the home the most, and Faize often spoke of Fyral's other father in that language. But, where was this other parent? Faize had never answered that question, only said that he'd left, and that it had been hard. Fyral hated not knowing. He was curious, and had searched all of Limerus to try and find his other father. There was no one who fit Faize's description of him, or looked like the other man in the only photo Faize had of him. And there was the question of the other child in that picture as well. Faize had called him 'Seoul', and told Fyral that it was his brother, whom Albel had taken with him when they had been forced apart, fourteen years ago. But now, Fyral was certain he knew. Albel wasn't on Limerus, but through the mirror that stood in the attic, covered over by a sheet. He'd gone up there several times to watch the events through the mirror, and he was sure his other father lived wherever that mirror showed. So now, with his weapon and a few items in a sack, Fyral was ready to set out and find his other father. Carefully, he touched the glass of the mirror, shocked when his hand seemed to pass through it. This could be it, the way to his missing family. Fyral pushed any doubts out of his mind and walked through, knowing that Faize knew as he heard the shouts behind him. But he needed to know. He had to see what was on the other side. Before Fyral could say anything, there was a sword at his throat. Standing before him was a youth with green and golden hair tied in two hair-wraps, dressed in a deep purple uniform. Red eyes stared into his orchid, and Fyral swallowed. "Who are you?" the other asked, using that strange language only Faize had ever used. "My name is Fyral Beleth." he replied. "You?" The other slowly drew his sword back. "Seoul Nox."