Taking his wife and his son by the hands Arthen wandered off, there was a traditional feast after the ceremony, he held it and wanted to prepare. Bewildered Othuen kept looking at him until the family had left her sight. “Let us go home.” Ytha stretched forth her hand. Shaking off the confusion Othuen took it and walked home with her wife. Ytha sat by the window of their home. Her gaze was fixed in the direction of Arthens house. Rumor had run around the crowd at the reception, rumor tbat the fence around the village was no longer opposed by Othuen, it was rumored that Arthen already had begun collecting supplies. Ytha had no strength to confront her wife with these rumors. Neither at the reception nor when they had returned home. “What are you wondering about?” Othuen sat down at Ythas feet. “Nothing.” Ytha shook the rumors off with a faint and tired smile. Remembering the papyrus Arthen had given her she reached for it. Without unfolding it she stared at the sheet. In faint letters her name was scribbled on it in her fathers handwriting. “What is that?” Othuen curiously glanced at the folded sheet. “Arthen gave it to me. He said it’s from my father.” Ythas voice began breaking, her trembling hand with the sheetvsank lower, she fought hard with tears but couldn’t hold them back. “I know the circle of life and I know that I shouldn’t think that way, but to me it seems as if it hadn’t been his time yet.” again she shook under sobs.

Overwhelming helplessness befell Othuen, she got up and wrapped her arms around her wife. “I got you, don’t cry.” her voice was a soothing purr, covered the worries she harboured herself well. Again Arthens words at the end of the ceremony spooked through her mind. Out of the corner of her eye she watched the papyrus sheet fall to the ground.As it fell it opened a bit, revealing the shimmer of something ethereal weaved into the sheet. As if a blind had been closed the shimmer disappeared as the sheet landed. After putting Ytha into bed, exhausted from all her crying, the ceremony and reception, Othuen stood above the sheet. In all her life had she never seen of weaving ethereal into papyrus. At least not by an Albin. Particularly an Albin who wasn’t a weaver.

Pondering whether she should risk opening it to read it she kept staring at it. “I should at least pick you up.” she sighed regretting the state the house was in.

A terrifying shriek went through her mind as her fingertips touched it, the papyrus was unusually cold and heavy.

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