Although she didn’t doubt Arluns honesty in his claims, Othuen hoped that Ytha actually was from another mother, or an orphan he picked up in the woods. That would raise a lot of other questions but would close the paradox of Ythas existence. Not only had Ythren been dead when Ytha was born, but also when she had been fathered.

“You shouldn’t burden your mind with troubles.” a woman stepped up to Othuen. After returning home from their excursion to the woods Ytha had gone to Arthen, while she stayed at the sanctum.

Never had Othuen seen that woman before. “Troubles are all I can lay upon my weary mind right now.” from the corners of her eyes Othuen noticed a slight haze lying upon everything, intensifying the slightly obscured sunlight.

“A bright life as yours shouldn’t be weighed down by these thoughts of yours.” the woman stepped up to the sanctum bowing slightly before it. “You’re Ythren, aren’t you?” the woman smirked upon Othuens question, turning slowly to the maiden. “Ythren, isn’t she dead?” Othuen also smirked, like her opposite, facing the sanctum.

“I was told it was a popular name once, but I guess you know whom I am referring to, and I think you are the woman I speak of.” with an elongated sigh the strange woman fully turned to face Othuen. “Still you need not to be as weary as you are.” she paused extending her hand. “Come, I shall show you something.” Othuen stared at the extended hand with much uncertainty. “If I am who you say I am, I would need to call you by name, so don’t be afraid.” still reluctant Othuen slowly lifted her hand and took the strangers hand.

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