Yardie (prime)/Sunrise

Morning rays brushed against Yardie’s silken black skin, its warmth a welcoming greeting on his furrowed brow. Once a loyal companion that shadowed his professional life, Yardie abandoned solitude for brotherhood, forsaking the discipline he held in reverence and the teachings of his Faendryl kin. He clung to his adopted family, newfound friends, and romantic relationships as a refuge from the world he left behind, shedding it like a serpent’s skin—glistening in newfound freedom—and avoiding that former life for five years.

That past crashed upon the shores of his stability. Wrendiel appeared like a rogue wave, engulfing the shores of salvation, eroding the foundation while dragging it into its endless maw, threatening to pull him into the undertow of his sins. Like natural disasters, that force of nature strikes indiscriminately, sparing no one from its unstoppable force. With others now soaked, Yardie spat a curse into the ocean, his voice drowned before it reached the water.

Just when he thought he was out, they pulled him back in. Reluctantly, he could accept that, especially with his brethren by his side. But they were not truly with him.

His mentor and his beloved had returned to Ubl.

His closest friend, the Legionnaire, was missing—leaving the Faendryl as the last witness and suspect.

Yardie glanced at the sunrise, then twirled the silvery lor quill jutting from his left hand and began scribbling. Writing had been his salvation; the gift of literacy opened doors of communication and self-expression that he had lacked. That quill, a token earned when others underestimated him, opened a door—a way out of all the trials and tribulations that haunted his cursed life. This morning was no different. If everything fell apart, the truth would set him free, even if that truth came after his death.

Instinctively, he folded the parchment with his right hand and reached to give it to the massive grey wolf tasked with carrying his writings. But the wolf was not there—in the absence of his master. With a heavy sigh, Yardie rose to his feet and looked out over the horizon. The waters stretched beyond sight—unknown, unseen—and lurking, much like Wrendiel.

The waters were muddy; others had been dragged into the mess. The Ta’Mori, the Legion, Sirona, Madame Khobra, and others who had been curious about the Panicky Phantom had been scratching at the surface, knowing but never proving—until now. Unlike the sand beneath his feet, time was not infinite. The sun continued its ascent, signaling a new day.

But that day would end. Night would eventually prevail, bringing the light to an end. Off in the distance, he heard the howling of a jackal, its call booming.

“Soon,” Yardie said to the wind. “I’ve run away long enough.”