Sun Mote Copse red breath

One by one they arrived, brother and sisters. Ar-Khalba came, and Ragna wondered how he felt. Was he attached to these children in the same way Eshamun was? He was not the one to carry them, but they were the fruits of his seed. Did he love them? His face was a stony mask, one that Ragna emulated. She would not be weak, not here, not now. She was made of sterner stuff than that. She was made from sea-salt and warrior's blood, and she would not balk.

She had been called to witness, and so she would. Her heart thudded in her chest, but she had mastered her expression into one not of apathy, but something close. Carefully, carefully, she listened to Eshamun's words. This was the illidu-dam, and if Ragna ever thought to have children, this destiny would befall one. Though the weakness in her heart begged her to turn away, Ragna watched as Eshamun took the first of her children into her jaws. And then she watched and she waited and she listened.