| 𝐱𝟕 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 | WRITING ON HOLD
HE IS A THREAT, A POWERFUL WEAPON; BUT MOST OF ALL, A KEY TO THE END OF WARS.
Solan is unbeknown to his true identity, but when a twist of fate shatters his illusion of a safe world, he is faced with charge...
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Sol gazed wondrously to the outskirts where they had drifted over to stop to rest. The copse of cedar trees cast a dark reflection on the water of the east side. A swift breeze tangled through his hair, bringing with it the scent of berries.
Sun peeked over the horizon, its brilliant rays starting to glare across the sapphire sky. Yellow blotches formed on the forest floor and refracted across the rippling lake in the center of the glade.
"Alright, come on. We should stop to rest." Qahir suggested as he slung himself from the chestnut stallion and wound the reins around a large oak tree. He then stalked toward the shoreline of the lake and perched near it.
Sol continued to glaze over the lake. "Perfect." He smiled nervously and turned back to his older brother. He slid from the saddle of his horse and attached the reins to the same bark, equipping the bow where he then sat besides Qahir.
"Now this is what I'm talking about! It's beautiful, isn't it?" A smile spread across Qahir's face. Droplets of water flowed down his cheeks, dribbling into the vastness of the lake as he spoke. He then ran a hand through his cropped hair the colour of spilled ink. As an adept huntsman, Qahir had told Sol that he preferred to keep it that way to prevent it from obscuring the view during hunts.
"Yeah," Sol paused as his eyes glazed the lake to admire their surroundings. Of all the places he thought that Qahir could take them to, Solan was not expecting this one, "I didn't know such a place existed around the outskirts."
Sol watched as his brother grabbed a small rock by the shores, gliding a thumb over it. "Father found it." Qahir mumbled with a brief smile before meeting eyes with Sol. "You know, Father would've been proud of you, Solan." he reassured.
"I hope so..." Sol mumbled, "It would have been nice to have him here with us today though."
Sol had not known his father very well. All that he had left Sol with were legends and stories of another world, lullabies, and a faint memory of a thick bladed sword, with etchings of symbols along the blades base, and the end of the handle tapering into an emerald green pommel that his father regularly kept by his side; he was never without it.
