Qeya River fear the others for eternity

Ilse rose, the blades of grass underfoot bobbing one by one back into rightful orientation. Anselm’s breath was held, his golden gaze searching hers for the name he begged would leave her lips. 

Wylla. Oh, hearing that name again brought a torrent of old emotions and memories flooding through his heart. The goldcoin of his eyes misted over, his breath at last inhaled in a shaky rattle. 

He flung his arms over her in a rough embrace, disbelief overwhelmed into something else. Ilse — I thought I lost you, my sister. He stepped back, considering calling Gideon over to meet his aunt— but then a darker worry pressed the palm of his heart. If she was here, where was Mahler and Wylla? Did they live? It’s me. Anselm. Vhat are you doing here? Vhere are Vylla and Mahler?