Sanria wandered Westbridge, looking official, all the while fearing the worst. She tried to keep her thoughts on her daughter, but they kept floating back to the man in white who she loved. She paced in Festival Square, working herself up until she could do nothing but play ring-around-the-fountain while biting her nails.
The more she thought about it, the more she began to panic. The more she panicked, the harder it was for her to even breathe. She would settle it. She would go home. Emalia would be fine, her clan always said she would, they would look after her.
Her body aging as it was, Sanria took the magical means of transportation and willed herself into her house. "Thasmudyan?" she called. "Sandorin?" No answer assured her that, as always seemed to be the case whenever Emalia wasn't there, she was alone.
Sanria moved through the cavern, up the familiar stairs to her bedroom. At the least, while she was here, she'd make sure she was clean. As she dropped her cloak onto the floor she noticed a note sitting on the stand.
The steady, slanting hand that contained with it so much authority stared back at her. 'Oh no... this can't be good.' Sanria sat on the bed, running a finger over the black ink and with her heart straining to leap from her chest, she unfolded the note and began to read. Her heart slowly sank as her brown eyes, filling with the liquid of pain, scanned the slanted scrawl. The tears slowly meandered down her face, she didn't even notice that the beautifully penned note had fallen to the floor.
He was brought back for a purpose. He had something that needed to be done. He had to go, to traverse the realms to find out what it was. She had to go on, he had said. Had to let life survive, not to wait for his return. After 18 years, and getting her true love back, she got the closure she never had through all those years - but it came at the expense of her happily ever after.
