All things exist in a never ending cycle of rising and falling, ebbing and flowing, increase and decline. In these patterns we find the divine. In these rotations we see The Unbroken Circle. Witness life in all its forms, acknowledge death as a part of the whole. Embrace god, an endless cycle, unbroken, forever and ever.

-The First Verses of Creation

I've tried to keep myself out of the narrative as much as possible thus far, but I need you to understand the world in which I've grown up. In three-thousand generations the holder of an Essence had never died without an heir to pass on their power. Before Jordan Mdu Scoiden, the balance had always been maintained. Her death changed everything.

In the years following the demise of Shakia Krylight, The Last Queen of Summer, not only did the power of The Summer Council crumble around them, but the presence of The Light in the world dwindled. Gold, The Light in physical form, became the most valuable substance in the world for a time, until it too faded away. The abundance of over forty years of Summer took time to fully deplete, but winter rolled in and the environment could no longer sustain what had once been plentiful.

Winter's resurgence did not last for long. You see, my world is different from yours. There are entire ecosystems evolved to survive during our most extreme winters. The freeze berry, a delicacy in normal years, became an invasive species that menaced the open country, swallowing entire provinces. Undead like restless and duppy, prevalent only during the coldest of seasons, rose from ancient cemeteries and forgotten battlegrounds to terrorize the north. The sun disappeared behind a permanent overcast and the warmth of the world slowly vanished.

As people died from cold, famine, monsters, and conflicts, the question arose; Why is this happening? Who killed Summer? The answer was simple: The Sunkiller. Children learned about him in temples and places of learning. Scholars studied him, prophets cursed him. The Sunkiller was a boogeyman, responsible for the dying world.

The sudden sting of Haru's hand across his face snapped Jordan out of his reminiscing. He blinked rapidly, replacing the past with a cold and bleak present. His eyes met Haru's and for a mad moment he saw Shakia. Haru was darker, taller, and lacked the golden hue, yet they could have been sisters. He whispered her name and Haru struck him again.

And again.

And again.

Each blow grounded him in the moment. Seated on a snow-covered bench, the cold seeping into the fabric of his trousers. The stale winds of Kronanhold blew the chill down his collar and up his sleeves. The low temperatures outside competed with the cold settled in the pit of his stomach.

She struck him again and again. Her anger mounted each time her open palm hit his stubble-covered cheek. Mounting fury gave her eyes a venomous glow, and she swung the next with more force.

"You're the reason for all of this." Slap. "I watched my parents beaten to death by black market traders during a food riot." Slap. "I've seen people freeze to death in the streets for want of shelter against the elements and lack of something to burn."

She punched Jordan, landing a solid blow. He didn't move to avoid her or to defend himself. Jordan just sat there, wet and miserable. Accepting his penance from her where he'd refused to accept it from the soldiers dressed in street clothes. He whole-heartedly believed he deserved all she gave him and more.

"People die every day because of what you've done. I feel people die every day..." a dam broke inside Haru. Big heavy tears poured from her eyes and nose. She punched him one last time and her arms dropped to her sides. "I feel them."

Thus the naturalist code against harming others. The preservation of life protects the Bridgers, rare empathic naturalists, from hurting themselves. Jordan understood this deep beneath his grief, but he dwelt on the surface with the cold and the pain.

"Why?"

"I've asked myself the same question every day for two hundred years," he replied. He spit blood into the snow.

"Why... why won't you fight back? I've seen what you can do."

He looked down at the blood on his hands and the blood on his fine clothes. Covered in blood in his memories and covered in blood in the present. He was a scion of death. She followed his gaze and the rage welled up inside of her once more. She raised her fist, but lost her nerve when he didn't react.

"I don't understand... The Sunkiller is a monster, a trickster who betrayed The Last Queen of Summer, sacrificing her to her enemies for fifteen pieces of silver..." She looked down at the items she'd dropped, purchased with his coins. Haru shivered with disgust. "You're nothing but a pathetic old man."

She backed away, wiping her hands down the sides of her cloak as if to cleanse the feel of him. The tears came again and she hurried off, leaving him to brood.

Jordan sat in still silence until his mouth filled with blood. His nose hurt, but she hadn't broken it. Her assault lined the inside of his mouth with gashes and he bled freely. He spat, adding to the freezing patch of bloody snow, and rose. Gathering the supplies she'd dropped, he adjusted his collar. The stinging snow that spilled down his neck was just another piece of his penance. Jordan's legs lead him away from that bench and that part of town where men tried to kill him and a woman who resembled his first love punished him for his crimes.

Blocks away from all of that violence, a crowd jockeyed for position in front of a merchant's cart. They clambered desperately for a touch of real gold. The hawker shouted about how it could cleanse food, reknit damaged flesh, and cure diseases. In his youth, one only needed to call at a temple to The Unbroken Circle and a priest would rub a piece of gold upon you. No one paid for a blessing that was freely given. The looks on the faces of the people around him suggested this was no longer the case.

Watching the merchant accept their coinage and one by one sit them on a stool and drape a length of gold around their necks, Jordan pitied the people. Even from the back of the crowd, he could tell that the gold was not real. He couldn't feel its power, its warmth. There was also no reaction, not like when Akiko handled his pouch. There was no glow and the people looked no better for being so close to The Light.

He shook his head and continued on his way. He couldn't help them and his interference would only take away what little bit of hope they clung to. He'd done enough of that already.

He trudged into Llaysl's apothecary, barely registering the elf and the young serpentfolk male behind the counter. He moved through the shop proper to the rear where he dropped the supplies clutched in his arms onto a wooden table. Slumping down in a corner, he stared blankly at the embers of the brazier at the center of the room. Red veins slowly ate away at the gray husk of coals, burned away by their purpose. Once it had run its course, ash would be all that remained.

"Jordan, are you okay?" A concerned elven voice.

"Jordan, is that blood?" Accented Serpent tongue.

"I saved you a beneigh." A child.

"Have you seen Haru?" Worry.

"What happened to you?" Fear.

"Why won't he talk?" Confusion.

The voices all ran together, making less and less sense as Jordan sank into the depths of despair. The place felt inviting but cold, like an old friend he hadn't seen in a long time. He felt hands pull him to his feet, from a place detached from his body. Lost in thoughts of Shakia and what he'd done, Jordan floated in a place between Season's Divide and Kronanhold, yesterday and today.

"Mine the store, Hoa," Llaysl said as he removed the silken scarf around his neck. "Inform the girl that he's going to be okay, then give her this and tell her I need five more just like it. She'll know where to look and it will keep her distracted for a while."

"Is he..." the serpent asked.

"Is he what?"

"Is he going to be okay?"

Llaysl took Jordan's chin and stared into his eyes for a long moment.

"I think so," he finally answered. "Now get going, we're expecting an appointment at any moment."

Jordan listened to the sounds of Hao slithering through a door and moving heavily down a spiral stairwell.

"Jordan. My Jordan. What are we going to do with you?"

Llaysl slowly unbuttoned Jordan's shirt. Undoing the cuffs, the elf paused and waited until Jordan helped him remove the torn green top. He carried it across the room and returned with a basin of warm water and a hand towel. With careful purpose, Llaysl slowly washed the dried blood and dirt from Jordan's cold hands, examining him for any cuts or gashes. Llaysl sang quietly as he worked.

"Oh, sun. Oh, sun. Please shine down on me. Your rays are inviting, I'm happy to play. Oh, sun. Oh, sun. You've always shined for me. Your kiss, your gaze, gladly marks the way. Sun, sun. Oh, sun. Oh sun. Blaze bright and bold. Dance your magic dance in a rain of gold."

He lapsed into humming, managing to speak in perfect harmony and tempo in the elven way. "I still had enough Light in me to feel her die, and I wept for you when I learned of what happened."

Llaysl rose up and kissed Jordan's lips, gently brushing flesh on flesh. He removed Jordan's boots and socks. Carrying them across the room. Returning to his place between Jordan's legs, he washed Jordan's feet.

"Do you remember when Shakia took you on vacation to the Mermaid Islands and my unit was assigned to chaperone?" He stood and kissed the bruises blossoming on Jordan's nose and cheek. "Remember when the two of you were tired of me watching and she asked me to join? When my commander found out about the three of us, he assigned me to guard the docks for the rest of the trip. I still count that trip as one of my dearest memories."

Llaysl glanced at the door and the latch clicked into place as if by spectral hands. He let his robes slip from his narrow shoulders. His body was lithe and hairless with skin like milk and a roundness to his form that spoke of an undeniable femininity. He sat in Jordan's lap and nuzzled his neck, brushing his lips along the soft skin.

He nibbled Jordan's earlobe. "I knew you both better than most, and I know who loved her more than life itself. Whatever really happened, I know you would have never slain the love of your life. I know you would have never caused this on purpose."

Tears spilled down Jordan's face and he silently wept. He didn't know how much he'd needed to hear someone say it, but the relief was as painful as the self-recriminations.

"She knew too."

Jordan wrapped his arms around Llaysl's waist while the elf kissed his tears away. Feeling the warmth of another person pressed against his chest reawakened something cold and lonely inside, something hungry with desperate need. His lips found Llaysl's and the passion of the elf brought him back from the brink of the same darkness that once made him run into the wilderness and remove himself from the world. Llaysl slid a hand down his chest, tracing the pectorals and abs on its way to the top button of his trousers. As nimble in body as he was in mind, the elf changed position without leaving Jordan's grasp.

Straddling him, Llaysl undid the button and explored the flesh inside. At his insistence Jordan came to life, warm and throbbing. Jordan gently bit Llaysl's neck, sending a shiver through the elf's body. He took hold of Llaysl and carried him over to the huge pillow-covered bed in the center of the room. At first, the sheets smelled of cocoa butter and vanilla, then it was Llaysl's hair and skin. Jordan knew it was a bit of subtle elven magic, but he didn't care. Their lips found naked flesh and Llaysl gave himself over to Jordan's great need and great grief.

In each other's arms, they mourned a woman they had both loved.