17: Family

There was some time for a trip home. The team would not be needed for a few days, and so had been granted some leave after the chaos of the battle of Chulak. Aithris had taken this chance to return to New Sanctuary as he so often did on his time off. His interview with a representative of the IOA was scheduled in a few days' time, an appointment Aithris did not at all look forward to.

Natalia was nothing but confident he would have no problems, and she once again accompanied him to New Sanctuary, something that had become a habit for her the past six months. The small community of Nomads living at the planet's sole settlement had welcomed her, and after some time even Aithris' own mother, Livona, had finally befriended the young Staff Sergeant. She was always keen to visit the Nomad settlement, always glad to see how they were going. The village had started as a small cluster of prefabricated buildings; now there were dozens more properly built structures at varying levels of completeness. Most were modestly sized but with large yards surrounding them within which all manner of plants were tended to, as well as various vegetables and fruits that grew freely in the fertile soil. The weather here in the forested valley in which the settlement was located was of a pleasant warmth, with a blue sky scattered with thin, wispy clouds. Aithris wore his usual grey jacket and cargo trousers, whereas Natalia had opted for a plain black shirt and green fatigue pants.

There were a pair of Nomads standing guard at the stargate, both of whom wore a mishmash of Elite Guard armour and civilian clothes. They visibly relaxed when they saw Aithris.

One had been standing ready by the shield controls, located within a small guard booth. A more recent addition here was that of a shield that would cover the stargate, thereby preventing any unwelcome visitors from getting through. Aithris had called ahead to make sure they did not have it switched on when he arrived, yet even with these security measures in place there was still some noticeable unease amongst the guards present. The threat of attack was ever present, and if it did not come through the stargate then it would come from above.

There had been three million Nomads living on Sanctuary. After that world's destruction, there were now little under thirty thousand making themselves at home here on New Sanctuary. Many still lived within their starships, scattered about the valley whilst they worked on building more comfortable and permanent accommodations. Stargate Command routinely sent aid, but so far the Nomads here had been able to sustain themselves well enough that food and water were never on short supply.

Aithris' mother lived in one of the prefabricated homes towards the town centre. It was a squat rectangular home, having been brought here as part of the initial aid packages sent from Earth. At a glance, it appeared plain, but Livona had worked to turn it into a genuine home. The front garden was full of flowers, many of which were native and deemed safe for Nomad physiology. A few were from New Sanctuary, salvaged by the various refugees and brought here aboard their ships. It was a familiar home away from home for Aithris, and this even went some way for Natalia as well. In fact, he suspected that her lack of any real family ties in Russia had made the connections she had formed here all the stronger. She had mentioned having some old family friends back home, but her parents were gone and she had little to draw her back to her old hometown.

"This place looks more colourful than last time," Natalia remarked. Aithris approached the front door, ready to knock on it only for it to swing open before he had a chance. Livona was there, outfitted in a deep blue gown that complemented her somewhat lighter blue shade of her skin. Her face lit up when she saw her son and she drew him into a tight embrace.

"It's been too long, Aithris," she told him. Aithris, feeling a little embarrassed, gently extricated himself from his mother's tight hug. He smiled at her, towering well over her by a head's worth of height. "I thought you said you would visit more often?"

"I get out when I can." He nodded towards Natalia. Livona looked over and offered the woman a warm smile.

"Hello, Livona," Natalia said as she approached the pair. "I like the work you've done in the garden. My mother did much the same when I was little. She loved her plants."

"Every house needs some greenery," Livona declared. She stepped aside, motioning for Aithris to enter. He did so, with Natalia following. The interior had similarly plain grey walls as the exterior of the building, but Livona had done her best to liven it up. There was carpet laid on the floor, shelves and mirrors and framed paintings on the walls, even a wooden carving at the end of the main hallway that showed some vague representation of an ancient Nomad warrior. It was a new addition, and Aithris walked towards it, his violet-hued eyes narrowed in curiosity.

"Where'd you get this?" He asked his mother. She stopped at the kitchen threshold, looking his way.

"One of your grandfather's friends," she told him. By some miracle, Aithris' ageing grandfather had escaped from Sanctuary during the attack that had devastated the world. He was not a man Aithris often got along with, and so far he had done his best to avoid the old man. Nonetheless, he was family, and sometimes he did figure he should go and pay him a visit.

"Come on, you must be hungry." As was often the case when he came here, his mother had something cooking. Natalia followed her into the kitchen, with Aithris joining them. There was indeed a pot on the stove, and the smell wafting from the soup within suggested the same level of quality cuisine his mother had been making since his childhood.

Here on New Sanctuary, Livona was able to live a somewhat normal life. Before this new start, she had been part of the ruling Council of Sanctuary, not necessarily because she had trained for the role but more because of her 'gift'. By some billion-in-one chance, Livona would often be hit with visions of the future, and so far just about all those she had seen had come true. Oftentimes context within these visions was lacking, yet no matter what happened what she saw would come to pass. She had revealed to Aithris some months before that she had seen his own future death, and it was part of the reason why she had been so cold to Natalia when they had first met. Livona had seen her in her son's future, and that indicated that what she had seen of his eventual fate was well on its way to coming to pass. Aithris had not inquired as to details of what she had seen, if only because of how much it affected her. He would go on living his life and fighting the evils that needed to be fought. If he died, he died and there was not a great deal he could do about it.

Aithris' grandfather had always resented Aithris' father, Vakron, along with the rest of the ruling Council back on Sanctuary. It was understandable, seeing as how the Council had taken Livona away from her family at a young age as soon as they had learned of her gift. Vakron had been paired with her based purely on a genetic profile, with the results suggesting they were more likely to conceive and for their offspring to be healthy. No doubt they had intended for Livona to pass on her abilities to her children, yet Aithris had not inherited her powers of foresight. Vakron and Livona had learned to love one another as Aithris grew up, all while Livona's father had practically shut himself off from his son-in-law and grandchild. He would speak to his daughter but that was it. As such, Aithris had never developed much of a liking for the man, even when he had gone out of his way to see him once he had been old enough to break free of his father's firm parenting. Now, however, there were so few of their kind left that such petty family squabbles almost seemed inconsequential.

"Where is grandfather now?" Aithris asked his mother. She stopped before the pot and picked up a large metal spoon that she put into the soup, stirring it further whilst it steamed and bubbled.

"He's with a few old friends of his," Livona answered, and she turned her head to look his way. "At the workshop. It's not far from here and hard to miss. The large red building."

"Are you going to go see him, Aith? Because I could come." Natalia sounded keen to get to know more about Aithris' family.

"I wouldn't recommend it," Livona said, and now she turned around to properly face the two of them. "My father doesn't like humans. In fact, he doesn't like many people in general. He just tends to like his own kind a little more than anyone who isn't one of us." She gave a wry smile. "Of course, I can't stop you, Natalia. But I can warn you."

"He can't be that bad, surely?" Natalia appeared unconvinced. Aithris locked eyes with her, wondering if it would be wise bringing her along.

"I think it's best you stay here. Have something to eat. I'll be back soon."

"You're going now?" Natalia asked, quirking one brow.

"It's as good a time as any," Aithris said. He gave her a smirk as soon as he had said this, receiving an amused look in turn. He had picked up on a number of human sayings during his time on Earth, including plenty of the cruder ones.

He left the two to their soup and made his way back out of the house. The town, for that was what it was, had a level of activity about it he had not expected to see with his people since Sanctuary's destruction. Most of those who had escaped the destruction of Sanctuary had been civilians, with only a smattering of the Elite Guard who served the Council. Merchants, farmers and labourers had poured into escape ships and fled, once again forming a nomadic fleet similar to what their people had done centuries before when their original home-world had been destroyed. Once again, his people had been left without a home, yet here with the help of the humans of Earth they had a new start. Were it not for the growing infertility among their kind there would be some genuine hope. As it stood, what was built here would not do much good if there were no future generations to build upon it further. What pained him most was that he was perhaps one of only a select few of his kind who knew why their birth-rates had been in freefall for the past fifty years. There seemed to be no solution to the problem, and their medical scientists had been attempting to find one ever since the issue had become apparent.

The workshop was a large wooden building towards the edge of the town, painted a deep red colour and built in a manner reminiscent of a barn. Multiple chimneys belched smoke here, and as Aithris approached he could hear hammering and clanking as tools struck timber and metal. Various trades shared this building, among them the craftsman who had made the wood sculpture in Livona's home. For all of their advanced technology, there still remained an appeal among his people for things handmade, especially as the quality was often much finer than anything that had come off of an assembly line. And even the odd imperfection was generally believed by his kind to add a certain level of character to a piece. The Nomad predilection for homemade craftsmanship stemmed from their history of being nomadic, of wandering the stars from system to system, forced to scavenge what they could from where they could whilst keeping their ships running as wear and tear gradually whittled them down. His people had been scavengers for a long time, and it was by hands-on labour that the Nomad fleet had remained in flight for all those years before they had finally settled upon Sanctuary.

Aithris approached the sliding doors at the workshop building's entrance. Pushing them open, he stepped into a well-lit and spacious interior that carried within it the scents of freshly cut timber and scorched metal. Open skylights above allowed the natural light to spill inside, whilst a simple cleaning drone scooted around, sweeping up sawdust and metal shavings. A metalworker was off at the left, putting together some kind of farming implement, hammer striking and his sweat-slicked blue skin gleaming in the light. At the far end of the partitioned hall was the woodworker, an ageing Nomad male dressed in simple cream-coloured labourer's attire whilst he carved away at his current work in-progress. His blue eyes were focussed firmly upon his work, hammer in one hand and chisel in the other. To his left, seated on a simple fold-up chair was the grandfather Aithris had come to see, and this particular Nomad male was even older than the one working at the timber sculpture.

"They're talking of creating a new Council, can you believe that?" His grandfather spoke the Nomad language with a thick accent, having been raised on the far reaches of New Sanctuary. He had been a farmer by trade, and now he had to be pushing close to his eighth decade. He wore a plain red top and baggy brown trousers, and his skin showed it could be seen that it had lost some of its vibrant blue and instead carried with it a pallid grey. This was not uncommon amongst his kind, especially in older males. The black spines that followed the curve of his scalp were longer, yet more fragile. Another trait an ageing male could look forward to.

"More politics, when there are barely enough of us to qualify as a 'civilisation'," his grandfather added. His friend, the woodworker, continued chipping away. He managed a nod, if only to give the impression that he was listening.

"Rorkan?" His grandfather looked up as soon as he heard his name, and his pale blue eyes shot straight for Aithris. Upon recognizing the young male who approached him, his brow furrowed and his previously amicable mood vanished.

"Aithris, did your mother send you out to see me?" Rorkan slowly rose to his feet. Unlike the select few of the ruling Council and Elite Guard, Rorkan and the other civilians did not have the nanotech implants that had kept Aithris fit and healthy since a young age. No one would ever get them again, seeing as how the technology had been lost on New Sanctuary. Whereas Aithris might have looked forward to ageing gracefully and living longer, Rorkan had to endure the rigours of regular ageing like most people.

"Feeling sorry for me, is she?" The old Nomad added.

"I came here on my own accord, grandfather." Aithris stopped a short distance from the old man. The woodworker, Larken, paused in his activities and spun about to face the pair, his curiosity piqued.

"Curious about your old grandfather?" Rorkan asked, his tone carrying with it something mocking. "Curious to see how miserable and ailing I'm getting? All while you remain young and will remain that way for far longer than any of us lowly peasants."

"You're not a peasant, Rorkan." Aithris had since become used to hearing this sort of talk from the old Nomad. He met the ageing male's gaze with a level one of his own, unimpressed that he would straight away fall back upon this old topic of conversation.

"Might as well be," Rorkan countered. "With the Council at the top with their Elite Guard, we might as well be bloody peasants."

"I was never part of the Council."

"That may be so, Aithris, but you didn't exactly prove yourself a good son now, did you? I mean, you did leave unannounced, racing off into the galaxy beyond. How goes your crusade, anyway?" Rorkan gestured about the inside of the workshop, although Aithris knew he referred to the town outside of it. "Because it hasn't exactly brought any good for the rest of us, has it?"

Rorkan of course referred to Aithris' departure years before, where he had decided to search for assistance against the ancient enemy he knew was coming. The Council had done little about it, despite knowing what he did, and in the end their inaction had led to their destruction. Here and now, however, Rorkan seemed to be implying that he was somehow responsible for what had happened on Sanctuary.

"You cannot blame me for that," Aithris said, his voice firm. He had to repress a swell of anger, courtesy of his many years of training that provided him with a certain level of control most other sentients did not have.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe, by going out there, you only brought undue attention towards us?" Rorkan stopped before him then, standing an inch or so shorter than his grandson but otherwise making for a broad, imposing figure despite his age.

"You forget, Rorkan, that I had to rescue my mother, that is, your daughter from the Calsharans. And that was after she left Sanctuary on her own."

"You inherited her stubborn streak, that's for sure," Rorkan replied. He seemed to smile then, before he noticed that his woodworker friend was looking their way. "Aithris, this here's Larken. He's an old friend."

Aithris gave the woodworker a nod. Now, up close, he could get a better look at the carving the Nomad male had been working on. It was a good six feet tall, and although it was unfinished it did carry a fair amount of detail. The figure of a Nomad male was apparent, as was the body armour and the long staff he carried in one hand. The face was what Larken was fine-tuning now, chipping small sections away before sanding down any sharp spots. It was the kind of work Aithris knew he could never match, for his talents lay in combat and not sculpting.

"Who's that?" He asked Larken. The woodworker glanced to his sculpture and seemed to think for a moment on his answer. He then looked back to Aithris, appearing sure of himself now.

"Farvek the Warrior," Larken replied. "You've probably heard of him?"

Aithris nodded in the affirmative. Farvek was one of the more famous Nomads, having been alive one-thousand years ago at the time of the first war and the great alliance with the Calsharans and makalvari. Back when their people had not been 'Nomads' but had hailed from a world named 'Varalan'. Farvek had been a wartime leader and a close confidante of Visala. He was known as being the one in the Nomad leadership at the time who had pushed for an alliance with the Calsharans more than anyone else. Aithris was not familiar with all the details, and he realised with some regret that a lot of the original records would have been lost in the destruction of Sanctuary. There would still be the odd historical text stored digitally on any number of the computers on board the ships used to get to New Sanctuary, but the original relics and writings were likely all gone. Just another thing his people had lost, all because of that old enemy.

"Did someone commission this piece?" Aithris asked.

Larken shook his head.

"Oh, no, this is just something I felt I had to do. Our people need to be reminded of the old heroes. We could do with a man like Farvek right now, if you ask me."

Aithris could only agree with this assessment. He set his gaze once more upon the wood sculpture, locking eyes with the somewhat formed ones of the sculpture itself. Farvek had had a hard face, and it appeared that Larken had captured it well here.

"Who's this?" It was Rorkan who spoke then. Aithris turned around, following his grandfather's gaze. He was surprised to see that Natalia had appeared, strolling into the workshop with her eyes keenly surveying their surrounds. Rorkan's expression soured noticeably as she approached, and her features lit up when she saw Aithris.

"Hey, Aith," she called, and she stopped a few steps before him. She looked to be about on the verge of giving him a hug, or maybe just taking his hands into her own, but the glare from old Rorkan checked her. She nodded to the old male, her mouth forming into a wry smile.

"Is that him?" She asked, her voice low.

Before Aithris could reply, Rorkan stepped towards her, his face contorted into a mean scowl.

"Of course it's 'him', human," he barked. "Do I look like a woman to you?" He waved a hand in front of her face, and Natalia frowned slightly as she turned to face him. "Do all humans have bad eyesight or is it just you?"

"Natalia, you probably shouldn't have come," Aithris began, but she was quick to interrupt him.

"I was curious," she said, and she gave him a shrug.

"Curious to see the old man, same as him." Rorkan huffed, before he slowly shook his head. "This place truly is falling apart. We're getting a new Council and we're letting outsiders roam freely." He turned to Aithris then, cocking his head slightly in a show of curiosity. "Tell me, boy, is she the one you've been rutting all this time?"

"Grandfather," Aithris said, shooting the old male a shocked, if somewhat embarrassed, look. Natalia let out a short laugh, seemingly unoffended by the remark.

"You remind me of an uncle I had when I was a child," she told him. "He didn't have a filter on him either."

Rorkan looked from her to Aithris and then back to her again, unsure of just how he should respond to the pair. After a moment, he simply gave a dismissive wave of his hand and walked away. Natalia watched him leave, and as soon as he had departed the workshop she returned her attention to Aithris and quirked a brow.

"Like you said, he's a hard man to like," she stated.

"I must apologise, Natalia…"

"Don't worry about it, Aith. I had to see the guy, if only to satisfy my curiosity." At that moment, she did take his hands into her own. Larken, who had watched the exchange with some amusement, gave a slightly bemused glance at the show of affection but otherwise said nothing.

"I mean, we're practically family at this point," Natalia added. "The kind of family I never really had back home." She had grown up in a small town with a father who had died when she had been young and a mother who done her best to care for her on her own. In the end, the Army had offered Natalia Tarasovna a way out of the poverty she had been born into. She was grateful for the opportunities that career path had provided her, even more so now as they had led her into the arms of a particular young Nomad warrior.

Aithris smiled at her. They had known each other for nearly two years now, and it had been the past several months in which they had properly come to terms with the feelings they had for one another. He loved her, felt for her in a way he had never done so for anyone else before. It was an awkward situation at times, if only because of the nature of their work. And there lingered the threat of them being separated at any time, be it because Aithris might be taken out of the stargate program for whatever reason, or if Natalia was recalled home. How could he see her again if he was not even permitted outside of Stargate Command? Every day together was one he treasured, yet the future contained with it far more uncertainties than it otherwise would have had he not had her on his mind.

"Well, since your old man's left, maybe we should get back to your mother?" Natalia nodded for the workshop's exit. "The soup's getting cold and like everything else your mother makes, it's delicious."

Late afternoon rolled on by, one Aithris spent assisting his mother with the various odds and ends she needed done around the modest prefabricated house. Tidying things up, working in the gardens she had started at the rear and front of the property; just about anything that her mother might have appreciated some assistance with. Natalia helped too, and the pair had taken to digging up several small holes out the front of the house to make room for a number of fledging native plants his mother had decided to take a chance on. Apparently, they sprouted nutritious small green fruits, at least according to the researchers here who had taken care to discover all they could about the native flora and fauna of their new home world.

Livona had gone into the town to get a few things from the market there, leaving the pair to the work. The sun above offered a pleasant warmth, with the overall temperature sitting comfortably at a point that was neither too hot nor too cold.

Aithris was on his knees, and he gently slid one of the small seedlings into the hole before him. Natalia was just to his right, her hands covered with dirt as she did the same at another of the holes. She was smiling, apparently delighted with the work, and she had told him earlier that it felt like she was back home, just a little girl again helping her mother with the gardening. When she smiled, Aithris could not help but smile himself.

"Your mother at least tolerates me now," she remarked, looking up from her work. Aithris turned to her, noticing the wry smirk she wore. "That's progress."

"She has her reasons for her wariness," he replied. On the gravel road that ran past the house, there was little activity. The few neighbouring homes were quiet, their occupants either out or keeping to themselves. Overall, it offered a pleasant, relaxed atmosphere.

"Does she approve?" Natalia asked.

"Approve of what?"

"Of the two of us."

He paused, mulling it over. Livona was the kind of woman who would accept whoever he came to love, and so far she was doing a well enough job of accepting Natalia. However, he suspected Natalia wanted a more detailed answer, and he suspected what she had in mind.

"You're worried she would prefer it if I had a woman of my own kind?" Aithris saw Natalia's expression harden slightly, but she otherwise nodded.

"Your people are dying out…"

"No one's 'dying out', Natalia. We'll find a way to fix it." He spoke with a confidence he was not sure he truly held. "There are some here who would consider our relationship troubling, deviant even. Some who would deem it a waste that we're even involved with one another, since it won't lead to children. But they are few, I suspect. The people here have no problem with you, Natalia. And I don't think they'd have much of an issue with us being together."

Natalia's gaze had floated to somewhere over his shoulder, and Aithris heard the footsteps before he saw the shadow of the approaching individual fall across him. He turned his head, surprised by whom he saw standing over him. There was no mistaking the pale blue features and shining blue eyes of Operations Commander Legarus, albeit outfitted in a somewhat worn-out looking Elite Guard uniform. It came complete with cape, and in his case the navy-blue cape was faded and torn in places. That uniform was the only one of his he had been able to get off of Sanctuary, and he wore it now because of his position as New Sanctuary's Captain of the Guard. They were hardly the 'Elite' now, consisting mostly of civilian volunteers headed by what few veterans remained.

"Aithris," Legarus said. He quirked one hairless brow, curious at the sight of the warrior down on his knees with his hands in the dirt. "I didn't take you for a gardener."

"I do a bit of everything these days." Aithris rose to his feet, flexing his arms as he did so. Natalia paused in her work, watching the new arrival with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. He looked over Legarus and his rugged uniform, complete with an armour vest that was still in relatively good shape. "You look well."

"As well as I can be, given what we've become," Legarus replied, and some bitterness found its way into his voice. Aithris could tell that this visit was not simply to catch up with an old acquaintance, no, there was another reason for it. Something much more serious.

Legarus looked down at Natalia. She stood up, ready to offer greeting, only for the Guard Captain's nostrils to flare in a way that suggested disdain. One of the finer points of Nomad body language that was not immediately caught by Natalia.

"She's the one I've heard so much about?" He looked to Aithris again, gesturing off-handedly to Natalia.

"She has a name, Captain."

"Of course." Legarus narrowed his eyes. "I overheard what you two were saying. I suppose that means the rumours are true?"

"What rumours?"

"This is a small settlement, Aithris. Word spreads quickly, although it is not often accurate." Legarus glanced at Natalia again, before settling his attention back on Aithris. "Indeed, it does strike me as somewhat deviant, but I suppose it doesn't matter anymore. We are, after all, gradually dying out." He motioned with one arm to the town around them as a whole. Aithris, who had only a passing affiliation with Legarus, knew enough to discern that the former Operations Commander was so very typical of the Elite Guard: haughty, arrogant, so self-assured in their own superiority to the commoners that it was almost disgusting. Aithris had not wished to end up similar, so he had quietly abandoned his Elite Guard training years ago. And then, not long after that, he had left Sanctuary altogether. A decision that had evidently paid off.

"We're a fraction of our former selves," Legarus continued, and his tone grew more frustrated. "There were nearly three million of us on Sanctuary. And now we have, what? Barely forty thousand? And that's a liberal estimate at best."

"What do you want, Captain?"

Legarus locked eyes with him. Whereas Aithris' glowed a violet hue, a side effect of his nanite implants, Legarus' eyes carried a somewhat unnatural, blue-tinted glow. He had received the same implants as part of his acceptance into the Elite Guard, yet the eye tint varied from individual to individual. In human terms, he would be in his mid-thirties, and was at least a good ten years older than Aithris.

"I wish to look out for the future of our people, Aithris. You are famous here for your deeds, especially for your part in the evacuation of Sanctuary. People look to you, whether you want them to or not."

"What do you want?" Now Aithris' patience was wearing thin. Legarus had come to him for reasons that were gradually becoming clear. This was no mere social call.

"Your help. Your allegiance. I have several like-minded individuals amongst the population here, as well as the few remaining members of the Elite Guard, who have agreed to work with me. Consider it an organization that puts our people first above all else."

"That's too vague for my liking, Captain."

"It's a start, Aithris. I simply want to know, if it came down to it, would you choose your human friends or your own kind?" That was what he had come here to find out. Aithris glared at him, his distaste with the Captain's suggestion apparent in the piercing look to his eyes.

"You know I can't answer that, not here and not now." Aithris sensed Natalia step alongside him, her expression one of uncertainty.

"The answer should be obvious." Legarus looked to Natalia and this time the gaze lingered, in a way that suggested the superior attitude of the Elite Guard was well and truly present. Natalia returned the disdain he showed with a mean glare of her own. Legarus barely paid it any heed, he simply locked his attention once again upon Aithris.

"When it really comes down to it, can you be trusted to do what is right for our people?" The question was, to some extent, a valid one. And of course, Aithris was doing all he could to help his people. However, it was in the way Legarus phrased it and the particular meaning he was insinuating that made Aithris uneasy.

"Get out of here, Captain. Don't bother me again." Aithris put enough authority into his words that even Legarus, a man so used to ordering others around, would have to pay attention.

"Very well, Aithris." Legarus appeared to relax somewhat. He emitted a sigh of resignation, before he began to turn away. As he did so, he paused, looking back at the two of them once more:

"We need to look out for our own," he stated. "Now more than ever." And with that, he walked away, heading down the gravel road some ways without looking back. He disappeared around a corner, and as soon as he was gone Aithris allowed himself to relax. He turned to Natalia, who had scowled after the departing Guard Captain. Now, though, she offered her Nomad a smile.

"What a mudak," Natalia said, and Aithris could only frown at the last part.

"I'm not familiar with that last word…"

She smiled at him again, before playfully nudging him in the stomach.

"Don't worry, you ever come with me back to my home country you'll find out quick enough what it means." She seemed convinced that at some point she would take him to Russia with her, but Aithris remained doubtful. Eventually, they would be forced to part ways, he knew this, and he knew that deep down, so did she. For now, Natalia was content to remain in blissful denial for however long she could.

"The dreams are much the same." It was evening now. Natalia was in the modest home's small bathroom, enjoying a warm shower. Aithris was seated in the kitchen at the small circular table upon which they had taken their meals, with Livona opposite him. She had a look of grave concern about her, the kind that seemed to sap all the joy out of not only her but of the entire room. He did not like seeing his mother in such a state, yet she no doubt worried over all that he had told her, compounded by what she had seen in her visions.

Behind her the blinds were drawn and night had fallen. A single light fitting above them cast the pair in a wavering, yellow-tinted light. Aithris could see his mother mulling over what he had told her, about his dreams and what had occurred within them. He told her of the church, or rather the cathedral by the lake. He told her of the people who pursued him there, and of the face-changing figure who seemed to guide him. Time and again he had the dream, sometimes with small variations. And part of him could not help but feel that he was being called to something, or to some place in particular.

"It's not every night, but that only makes when I do have them stand out more," he added. His mother had listened quietly and attentively. Finally, she rubbed at her eyes and rested her hands upon the table.

"They sound like dreams, not visions," she told him. "I doubt you have my gift. My abilities manifested when I was a child." It was the one thing Aithris had worried over, that he might have somehow inherited his mother's abilities after all. However, she did have a point, as for all intents and purposes his dreams were as abstract, vague and downright incomprehensible as those anyone else might have. Nonetheless, his mother was something of an expert when it came to this sort of thing.

"But there is something to be interpreted from what you've told me," Livona added. "The old beliefs, from the days of Varalan, suggest that when we dream we cross over into another world, another realm. And there we can see glimpses of the past and future or receive messages from higher beings. The humans might call such a being 'God', and our own people used to have a pantheon of gods and goddesses before the first war. I suspect it isn't so clear cut, and that's if such a theory holds any truth to it." She paused again, this time setting her eyes firmly upon her son's own. There was fear within them, an uncertainty for what lay ahead. For a woman who could see into the future this was unusual, and the look served to strike an ominous chord within Aithris.

"You think someone's trying to tell me something?" Aithris asked.

"Not necessarily. But I do think something's being communicated, whether by your own subconscious or something else I wouldn't know." She gave him a smile then, that warm smile that he had come to know well since childhood. "What I can tell you with some certainty is what I've been feeling these last few weeks. I haven't seen anything, nothing that involves you at least." Her smile faded, and her eyes widened noticeably with a look of fear that was so very uncharacteristic for her. "Something terrible is coming, Aithris. I cannot shake this sense that it's near and that it is directed to you. Please be careful."

Aithris reached across the table and put a hand upon his mother's own. He gave her a reassuring look, even if he himself did not feel all that confident.

"I always am, mother," he told her. "You don't need to worry about me."