The Yuke's line stood strong against the Lilties' whole army. "Youthful one, how old are you?" one of the soldiers questioned Dhiren.
"Sixteen, sir." He did not take his eyes off the coming reinforcements.
"You have been fighting at twelve years old? Four years ago is when this war began, and you jumped in at twelve?" The man was obviously shocked. "Such loyalty."
Dhiren froze in silence. That word was not the word he would have thought to choose. "Loyalty." Where did his loyalty lie? He looked down at that small ring on his finger. Lilty merchants truly were the best of all the races, and Miach had used her own gil to give him that gift. He had wanted it to study. He wanted it to practice his magic. But now look at him. He winced underneath that metal mask. How could he turn it against her? He truly didn't want anyone to suffer.
He turned and walked back toward the kingdom, ignoring the questioning calls of his fellow soldiers. "Loyalty." He repeated in his mind. "Loyalty to my dear friend. Loyalty to life. Loyalty to…" he turned around, and sure enough that place he called home during the evenings of his youth stood tall… "that crystal of friendship." He turned back, stepping more quickly towards his house. "Our loyal friendship… our song… Let it ring out far and long."
.
"But the fire magicite was unseen to us until now, son!" Dhiren's father paced the floor, unable to understand the boy. "Why run now anyway? You were there for four years!"
"Yes, father. Four years of my childhood taken from me! Stolen away by war! War that is not even necessary!"
"We are not the ones who started this worthless war, if you can recall. We are merely defending ourselves!"
"Yes, I know."
The wise, tall Yuke sighed. "Yet you are right. Childhood should be embraced. It is our time to learn. Go on down to the elder's tent. Seek your lessons and childhood there."
Dhiren obeyed. He left the house and went down to the small tent. It stood alone in a barren area. He noticed that another Yuke was entering. It was Sophronia, his younger sister. "Sophronia!" he called out. She turned. "Brother, dear. I thought you were at the battle."
"I came back to reclaim my childhood."
She squeezed his arm when he arrived. "Well, come with me to the elder. He will teach us!"
They entered the tent, where the elder was sitting, his back turned to them, between small candles. "Welcome, children. Why have you come?"
"Teach us, wise one." Dhiren responded.
"Tell us a lesson for our day." Sophronia added.
The elder hummed a long ommm, then began his poetic speech,
"In thy heart,
so deep it art,
Thy soul doth shed
A light to thy head.
"Though close some be,
They fade from thee.
Though hopes shine bright,
Dark covers light.
"So thy light
Hath no more might
Than tiny child
Who sings so mild."
Dhiren shuddered at the extreme links to his life. He knew the elder had said this rhyme for him, whether or not he was aware of it. The "light to thy head" …he had no doubt it was the hope he felt of his friendship. The second stanza was quite obvious. This war was blocking out the friendship. Their lives would never be the same. The "tiny child / Who sings so mild" was nothing less than what they once were, six children, circling that light, chanting their song.
He could not deny it. Their friendship was no more.
.
Sophronia looked at him curiously as they walked home. "Are you alright, brother?"
"Quite." Though it was obvious in his shaking voice that he was not.
And even as he entered his room, his mind did not change. He sat at his desk and pulled violently at the fire ring that was on his hand ever since that day six years ago. It hurt as he tore it off of him. After a full minute of staring at it in between his fingers, he placed it in an open page of his writing book. Then, he closed it and went to bed.
Upon that page was Selkie text and its translation: "We take care of our own. Friends are family. Family is home."
.
But as the wise elder said, they have faded…