21 years later.

A flash of fire shone on the buildings in the dark night, and screams echoed across the city. Hamel ran as hard as he could, but he could not find his way through the streets. He turned left, then right, but he never reached them. Maybe he could save them. Maybe they would be okay. Maybe if he could get there, they would survive. Maybe...

Hamel jumped out of bed. His fists were clenched so tight, his nails dug into the palms of his hands. His body was drenched with sweat, but his breathing was controlled, and his eyes alert. He was ready to attack. He was ready to kill.

Hamel scanned the room for movement. A shadow moved across the wall, and he nearly attacked but stopped as he realized it was light from a passerby on the street.

The rage burned inside as strong as it had most mornings for the last ten years.

He unclenched his fists and calmed his mind. The nightmare had not been as bad this time. He had not seen her face amongst the flames. That was a relief. He had not heard the cries of his children, either. In all the pain and all the loss, it was the thought of his children crying out for him, their Patir, to rescue them that caused the most agony.

He could not protect them or their Matir. He had lost them all. He had lost his chance to raise his children and be with his Lillel.

Hamel collapsed in a familiar position on the floor, and the tears flowed freely. The first eight years after the accident, he had somehow managed to stand strong, but the last ten had been too much. Only his adopted daughters knew how bad it was for him.

Hamel pulled himself off the floor and straightened his back. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, he stepped before the mirror. He set his jaw and stared deep into the eyes of his reflection.

Hamel steeled himself to face the day. It was an important day.

"I am not without family. I do not face the world alone. I must continue. There is work to be done."

Hamel relaxed his body and let the truth of Lertel's words sink in. He could not afford to give up. It was time to move.

The sun had not yet risen. It rarely had when his nightmares forced him awake. He enjoyed the early morning. Few people were up before the sun, and it gave him the chance to exercise.

He opened the door to his home and stepped outside. The air was warm, and the breeze felt cool on his face. It was going to be a beautiful day.

Hamel's morning run through the city took him along a familiar route. The streets ran up and down the uneven ground and made for excellent exercise.

Few civilians ran through the Ridge Capital. He knew some in the small villages a short distance outside the city ran, but it was not considered necessary. Only the military needed to push themselves physically. The rest of the people were already young and healthy. Hamel was the exception.

Patir Hamel saluted two soldiers standing watch at the end of their shift. They stood alert and ready. They always did. He often wondered if they were as alert as they were because they knew he regularly ran through their area at the end of their watch.

He remembered his own nights on watch in the city. He had always tried to be alert, but he had never stood so straight and so sharp when the sun came up.

The number of people on the street began to grow. The sellers were out, and the farmers were heading to the fields. It was time to end his morning run and return before people slowed him down.

As he ran up one of the hills toward his home, a young Matir with her child waved him down. "Honored Patir, will you bless my child?"

Hamel smiled to himself. There were few joys greater than blessing a child. As a man of his position and age, he was often afforded the privilege. He came to a stop beside the young woman and placed his hand on the child's head. "What is the child's name?"

"I have named him Hamel, after you," she said, her face beaming with pride.

Hamel smiled. "I am honored." He examined the child for a moment. He appeared to be around four years old and had a mischievous look in his eye. "May you, young Hamel, grow to be strong, faithful, and kind."

He removed his hand from the child's head and placed his hand briefly on the woman's head. "May you pour your heart and soul into this child, and may he leave a legacy equal to your own."

The woman bowed her head slightly to offer her gratitude, and Hamel ran on. He had to grit his teeth and focus to make it home. The little boy was about the same age his daughter had been. If he recalled correctly, it had been just the day before the crash that he had met an Honored Matir and asked her to bless his own little girl and young, infant son. He could remember how honored he felt to have that same blessing placed upon his children and then to have her own hand of blessing on his forehead.

He could not remember the Honored Matir's name, but he could see her face in his mind. Her hands shook, and her voice wavered. The Dusk had fallen upon her, and she had been near the end.

It was a great honor to be blessed by her. There were few memories so precious to him as that day.

He often reflected on that day. As a man who had escaped the Dusk.

Before he reached home, he was stopped by a young Lieutenant seeking advice in dealing with those under her command and a young man seeking counsel on a large business transaction to take place later that day. It was difficult to stop mid-run to offer wise counsel, but it was his duty and privilege as an Honored Patir among the people.

When he arrived home, the sun was fully up. It had indeed turned out to be a beautiful day, although he expected the midday heat would be intense.

Hamel arrived at the gate to his house and waited as Markel opened it. The fourteen-year-old boy had been a guard to Hamel for nearly three years. He was a strong, confident young man. Markel would do well in life.

Hamel made his way into the small yard behind his home and spent an hour and a half completing his exercises and routines. The walls stood high around his property. There was no concern for security, but he loved the privacy.

As he began his routines, Markel joined him. They rarely spoke during such times. Markel was much like Hamel, focused on the task before him.

Although Markel was dwarfed next to Hamel's height and bulk, he consistently proved himself a capable fighter. Hamel had trained few soldiers with as much potential as the young man.

Hamel called a halt to their training once he felt he had pushed the boy enough. Markel stood panting and dripping with sweat. He looked quite relieved that their training had come to an end for the morning.

In the house, the two washed up, and Markel set to making breakfast. When they sat down, they took a moment to ask for a blessing for their food and their time together.

Markel had his own quarters in the guardhouse by the gate, but he often joined Hamel for meals. Since Mariel, Hamel's youngest daughter, was regularly away with responsibilities of the Council, Hamel found it comforting to have a friend nearby.

For a few minutes, the young man ate in silence. He often did before he asked a difficult question. "May I ask you a question, Honored Patir?"

Hamel smiled and set down his knife and fork. It had become a daily ritual. "Markel, how many times must I tell you that while we are in my home, you must call me Hamel."

"I think you will have to tell me yet again, Honored Patir," Markel replied, a hint of a smile creeping up at the corners of his mouth.

Hamel understood. It was dishonoring to speak to someone of his rank with anything less than reverence. To speak with too much familiarity could be misinterpreted as contempt. While he did not wish to see Markel dishonored, it was difficult to have no one around for whom he could just be "Hamel." He wished the young man could see him as less of an Honored Patir and more of a friend. Besides, in one's own home, formality was often set aside.

"What is your question, Markel?" Hamel asked.

Markel bowed slightly in reverence to his friend and mentor before asking, "Will you be meeting Mariel today?"

"You know I will, Markel," Hamel replied. His stomach tensed, and his appetite disappeared. He knew where the events of that day would lead, and he did not wish to follow the path he knew he must.

"I suspect she will ask you again for your blessing," Markel said, not meeting Hamel's eyes.

"Yes." Hamel did not enjoy the conversation, but he would endure as he knew his friend well enough to know Markel's heart was heavy with concern.

"Will you give it? Will you give your blessing to her?"

Hamel raised his eyes to find Markel's eyes locked on him. He decided to be difficult. "May I ask your intentions with such a question? Is it because you have an eye for her?"

Markel's face turned red, and he dropped his fork on the table. Mariel was a beautiful young woman. There were few young men who were not enamored with her. Her beauty, however, was far exceeded by her course in life. There was little doubt she would be an Honored Matir in time. A woman of such intellect, grace, beauty, and obvious influence was an honor simply to know, let alone to marry.

"Honored Patir, you know I do not have my eye on her. She is far more than a lowly guard could even consider. I am also too young for her. I have not received the education a woman such as she deserves. I am not intelligent enough for her. And she has eyes for Captain Cuttel. She is also..."

"Markel," Hamel said with both hands in the air, "I am teasing you. I will disagree with you about your intelligence, and I don't believe your position as a guard is too low for her. I would be honored to give you a blessing for marriage to a daughter, but you are right in saying you are too young for her and that she has eyes only for Cuttel. I am simply trying to distract you from the question you asked. I do not wish to answer."

Hamel lowered his eyes. He poked the food on his plate with his fork and moved a few pieces of egg around in a circle. He had no appetite left, but he also knew his body would need the energy. It would be a difficult day. He took another large bite and began to chew.

"Honored Patir, will you give your blessing?" Markel asked again.

Hamel frowned and raised his eyes back up to the young man. "No."

Markel nodded, but the expression on his face indicated he was not satisfied. "I do not wish to speak out of turn, Honored Patir, but you know she is of marrying age. She is twenty and not for much longer. She does not wish anyone else. To add to this..." Markel stopped and looked as though he recognized how far he had crossed the line.

"Go on, Markel. You are my friend. I will overlook this and many more insults." It was not proper to remind an honored one of tradition, but Hamel had long since stopped caring about his pride around the young boy.

"This is the third time she will have asked for your blessing. If you refuse today, she will have full cause to take the issue to the Council. They will side with her as there is no clear reason for your refusal. Your honor will not be enough to force them to declare Mariel to be in the wrong. They will give her their blessing, and you will lose everything."

Hamel examined Markel. The young man's hands shook, and a tear had formed in his eye. He was a good friend. He was strong, faithful, and kind. He was also loyal and would risk his own honor to protect the honor of another. Hamel had always known Markel would be a great man one day. At fourteen, he was already showing the wisdom and courage of a man twice his age.

"Markel, thank you for your kind words," Hamel said. Markel's shoulders relaxed, and the young man let out the breath he was holding. Hamel added, "I am prepared for what I must do."

"Honored Patir, I don't understand why you won't give your blessing to her."

Hamel shoved the last of the food in his mouth and stood up. It was time to go. He would not be late for his meeting. He finished the food in his mouth and set his eyes on Markel. He didn't want to be firm with his young friend, but he did not want to continue the discussion. "Markel, I will not give her my blessing today to marry that man. She will only marry him if the Council overrides me."

With that, he turned and walked away from the table. He knew Markel would feel shame for pushing Hamel so far, but he could not allow his resolve to waver. There was too much at stake.

It was time.

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