Foggy Bottom Way long dark

Brac hurried home from the ravine, both frightened and excited by what he had seen. What did it mean? The images still hung in his mind, clear as they'd been the night he'd received them.

The heavy noise of water carved white space around him and he drank in the scent of the Clan. Surprise filled him when he tasted the scent of the stranger he'd met along his journey, nearly masking the paler scents of the family who'd left.

Clan would survive. Clan would be strong.

Though he wished to find Zoug, Brac knew that was no longer a choice for him, so he went on search of @Candle instead. Cavetreader burned to tell her of his night in the cave, and seek her mind for understanding.

The priestess was there; her back turned, dark furs rippling under the icy breeze. She studied the spectral waters in silence, lost herself in their livid colors. The shrouded falls, a place of spirits more than the ravine had ever been. Candle had always known this. She felt it now, felt the silverblue in her veins and the distant calling of something higher.

When the Cavetreader came to her, she closed her eyes. Brac. Candle opened her eyes and turned, pale gaze bright and dancing in the dark. Tell me where you've been and what you've done, she signed to him, leaving her joy at his return unspoken. She'd nearly thought him gone with the others.

She sat adrift. He could read it, though she did not speak it. It stirred up a deep recess, boyish thoughts trading in for what he must become in his brother's absence.

Gaara had chosen this path for him, but Brac did not resent him. It was no secret his eyes had always coveted the mantle his brother once held.

Gaara did not whisper as Brac did. His ears did not catch the soft murmurs spun by the stars.

This one has seen, he swept alongside her so his hush could be heard over the static of the waterfall, this one has heard the whispers sealed in starlight. Excitement and fear pricked the length of Brac's spine, alighting his belly with fire.

This one knows little, but Candle knows. Cavetreader has seen the way she watches the water. He trembled. This one must know what cavemother knows of the Final Dark.

Oh, Brac, her beautiful boy; her son growing into a man too quickly for her eyes to adjust. She looked on him and found she still saw the sweet youth he'd been, and maybe she always would. Candle found it harder to see the Gods-chosen man behind his blue eyes, the new weight he carried on his dark shoulders. He'd inherited the best of his parents, hadn't he? That much, at least, was plain to any eye.

She closed her eyes again as he spoke, and saw no more. She only listened.

For a few terrifying moments they were not mother and son.

You know I am the Candlekeeper. Watcher of the Eternal Flame.

The priestess's silver-green eyes flickered open, glimmering with tears unshed.

You need to know that I failed. When fire came to the House of the Gods, not the holy fire but the kind that kills, I fled with my sisters. We abandoned the Gods - and in turn, the Gods have abandoned us.

But not you. Not our children. Teller of the Final Dark, don't you know your duty? You are the Cavetreader; you lead us into the shadows, where the flame can be lit again.

She let out a breath, looked away, and the spell was broken. She was Candle again; she his worried, tired mother, struggling to keep the remnants of their family together.

I want you to lead with me. Be our Mog-Ur.