Chapter Sixty Five

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When Liran finally realised he was ready to get on with living his life, he removed the band of black cloth and put it out of sight, hoping not to need it for many years to come, but he knew there would always be sorrows. After over a hundred years of life, he was no longer able to believe that life could hold less pain. He was simply going to have to bear it.

Today Joran was helping him to look through the dusty shelves for old documents and sort out the archives.

"Are you done with those maps, father?"

Increasingly, Joran helped him look after the details of the land. Liran shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"No, I want to check something. I will put them away when I'm done. You should go. Dahlia will be worried."

He had a house built up on the cliff top overlooking the fortress and the ocean for Joran's family to live in. It would take Joran a while to climb the zigzag path up the tall sheer wall of stone to his home. He should start soon, before the sun set.

Liran spread his arms out and leaned against the stone railing overlooking the ocean side of the library balcony. It was going to be a fine evening. He might go for a walk by the water's edge. Walking seemed to give him peace, and he had done a lot of it over the last two years.

He remembered how he had talked with Elena by the great cave at the edge of the beach down at the other end of the bay. They had met Maylani there when she had revealed that she was Elena's long sought for mother. Liran couldn't understand how she could have given her daughter up, but it is nigh impossible to understand the mind of an ancient Guardian.

"You're thinking of her again, I can tell."

"It's not a crime."

Joran had figured out the source of Liran's moodiness within a few weeks.

"I'm not saying its wrong. I just recognise that you have a certain look when you think about her."

Liran wiped the dust from a particularly old scroll.

"I regret some things too much, I'm afraid."

Joran kept his sharp gaze on Liran while he worked.

"I know how you felt, father, and I could see she felt the same. It was frustrating to see you both doing nothing about it."

If Joran had known, Liran wondered who else had figured it out. He felt a little bit uncomfortable at the idea he was so transparent.

"She would still be dead now, and I would still miss her."

Joran moved to pace a pile of maps on a high shelf. He dusted off his hands on his pant legs and leaned over the desk where Liran sat reading.

"Elena was a Guardian. Do you really think she's dead? It doesn't make sense."

Liran looked up from his task.

"I've thought about it many times. The body that held her spirit is gone and she won't be returning with it. I'm sure she's somewhere where the Guardians linger now, floating without form and dreaming of futures and possibilities like her mother. I have to believe that, or I would be even sadder. But it's hard not to miss her."

Liran sighed. He done too much thinking on the subject already and couldn't think of any other conclusion. But after two years he wondered why he continued to feel so much emptiness. He turned back to Joran.

"On second thought, I'll put away that map now and walk out with you. I want to stroll along the beach for a while."

Liran rolled the map up and tucked it back in its slot on the shelf. He grabbed a jacket hanging from a chair and swung it around his shoulders. After a hot day, dusk would seem chilly.

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