2024-09-17 The Door Opens - Henri

The Wyrm Queen's parting words still ringing in his ears, Henri slumps onto his bed at the Gilded Mirror. Gods, he thought to himself, I need to get out of here. Maybe Matches and I should...

Such an odd thing, family. Henri had resigned himself to being an only child when his mother had died, when he was only a boy. Looking back now it is clear to see that his father never did stop mourning her - such things are not for young eyes to see, nor young minds to dwell on, but the quiet of a near-empty manor house never did sit quite right with Henri.

Perhaps that is why he likes the Mirror, a small thought crops up unbidden. Here, you are never alon-

He shakes his head, as though the intrusion were a gnat he could shoo away.

Then there was Gerhard, and then there wasn't. And then, there was so much more.

And then there was Gerhard again, and Orianna, and Lucky and Matches and Calla and Florian and Frigus and Elarris and Digs and...

No, Henri thinks, somewhat lying to himself, no others.

They had been cousins, the nine of them, bonded by more than just a tenuous familial relation. They were the ones who had decided, who had been chosen, to confront Arcravine.

The First Mountain, in both title and reality. A newer form of an elder: the Behemoth of Earth, once more.

And they had decided, alongside the Nine Archwyrms atop the mountain tops of the Wyrmhold with the Light of Asgorath above them, that it was in fact a war council.

The First Mountain would be brought low, and all would bear witness to what happens to one that would upset the balance of the Greet Wheel.

Henri waited, beckoning the normal thoughts forward.

But they do not come.

Instead, the only thoughts that come are words that the Archwyrm Throdrazz shared with him in a brief moment out of time.

He finds his jaw clenched, his fists balled.

He is the Herald of Possibilities.

He cannot leave. He does not want to leave.

He has a brother, now. A family.

And together, they are going to win.