The Sentinels on letting go

"i speak the language of fae, though is more commonly called sylvan." he knew only of a handful that still spoke the forgotten tongue outside of his homeland. to hear her speak a word of it now, even if it was just an echo, warmed his heart.

she requested a story, and he was happy to oblige. he seated himself against the cool touch of earth as he thought back to stories of his life. she'd asked for his favorite, and a smile beamed wide across his maw.

"last summer a sea-storm devastated my homeland. the sea took many souls home with her that night, and those that remained were left in ruin." he'd felt rage like none other, and a sense of betrayal from the creation he'd nurtured. "i was wrathful for my kin, for their loss. and yet in the midst of my fury i was given a gift. three mirfae — children, appeared before me on desolated shores."

even now he could still see their small frames huddled together for comfort and warmth. "i was granted the opportunity to raise them, and in caring for them i found a new purpose. lost and alone, they saved me, as i did them."

he looked to her then, heart swelled with the fondness of his memory. perhaps it was not the most captivating of the stories he could tell, but it was certainly the one that left him with the most joy and gratitude.