Lonethorn

Our voyage lasted the better part of a month. I knew our journey was almost at its end when I saw the sun peeking out of the veil, its muted colors of yellow barely breaking through the grey mire of the fog. The other passengers breathed a sigh of collective relief and gathered on the deck to watch the ball of light. The fog was so thick within the inner vicinity of the Grey Sea, sailors remarked that you know you are close to land if the Greyveil is thinning, making possible for the light of the sun piercing the faint vestiges of this ancient fog.

"Mama, mama! Look! it's the sun!" I said in excited greeting to my mother.

She gave me a smile. "Is it? Are you sure?"

Hours would pass before I asked my mother of a peculiarity. The sun never moved. It was a steady fixed point in the horizon. But as the ship ever drew closer, so too did the ball of light grew in size.

"The Heart of Sor, son," My mother answered. A light that burns at the highest peaks of Sorez' mountain range that marked its northeastern border. A guiding light for the ships that make the journey into the Greyveil. It had stood vigil there for nigh on three hundred years. A entire village high up in one of the peaks was said to have been tasked in keeping its light perpetually lit. I remember gazing at it in amazement. A ball of orange light so warm and pure that it pierced the thick mire of fog.

Seven days more would pass before we were truly rid ourselves of the Veil.

Passengers all stood close to the deck and prow of the vessel, so many that I feared we would tip over the entire boat. Fortunately, it was but a child's innocent and overactive imagination and the vessel remained steady. I jostled and pushed my way into the gathered crowd like some rodent and I was not alone. Other children did so too, while others were hoisted by their fathers on their shoulders, until finally I reached the rail of the prow.

I was greeted by the first glimpses of my mother's homeland.

Sorez.

Grey and drab from afar, grey waters and greycast skies. Broken only by the muted colors of green by the coastal forest that rolled on the hilly terrain, slowly giving rise to the hinterlands of Sorez's mountain range. And in that gloom, I saw the brilliant orange spark of human life, bright orange lights. A sea of orange stars that fought against the gloom brought about by the drab monotony of grey. Something shivered deep inside of me as my eyes laid on the sight. An echoing at the deepest bowels of my soul.

This land was beyond ancient.

We disembarked. Mother negotiated our luggage with some dockside workers. A laugh was shared and my mother hardly gave the man any fees merely offering that smile of hers and six others offered to carry our luggage.

"My, my this place certainly have grown," I heard her mutter, A soft wistful smile on her lips. Much of the architecture of Sorez were made of the same grey slab of granite they quarried in the hinterlands. Tiled roofs and stucco walls all in their hundreds made for a beautiful sight despite the drab grey. Despite the grim climate of the homeland, I have come to learn that much of the Sorezii people have the self-same jovial manner as my mother. They lit their homes in bright orange lanterns that spilled their homes with the vivid tint of the setting sun. They were loud and smiling people, the roads clean and cobbled. Thick wool, cotton and leathers were the fashionable attire among the populace to ward off the chilling cold that sweeps up from the mountains and down to the forest and coasts of Sorez. The docks were filled with people from other lands, as all docksides tend to be.

Somewhere along the way, my mother requisitioned a calesa drawn by a gelding. The porter hefted our luggage and off we went into the winding road of the city. As we ventured further, the rode steadily grew into a slant, the terrain built atop of a hilly outcrop. The Sorezii houses I saw where perched on nonetheless despite unevenness of the land. The path swerved up and down and zigzagged as we passed through the marketplaces, the residential districts. Everywhere there were noises. This was not what I had expected. I expected a people much like shaped by their environment that is the Gray Sea, moody, cold and drab. Instead I found them to be full of life, joyous and partaken to celebrations and festivals.

"Such is our people, Anri," My mother told me.

If so why did she leave? I wondered to myself. I realized we were easily making our way out of the inner city winding our way out of the grey metropolis what with its bustling people.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"There is someone I want you to meet," my mother replied cryptically. Sometimes my mother's flair for the dramatic can be quite aggravating.

Almost an hour would come to pass before we reached our destination. It was well beyond the outskirts of the city, deep in the hinterlands. There were more green than grey here. The forest almost neck-in-neck with the sparse homes here.

We stopped in front of a small but wellkept house. Grey stone as with all the houses of the region. We strode in front of the door and mother swung the knocker. I noticed her to be afraid, almost trying to retreat into her coat as we waited. What could have caused her to be apprehensive when she rubbed elbows with actual nobility in the Seaspires?

The man that greeted us was the tallest man I had ever lain eyes on. Six feet and six inches tall, his gaze was withering, his features almost set in a semi-permanent scowl that would make the hard rocks of the Grey Seas crumble beneath its weight. His jawline was almost as severe and hard as the rough rocks that jutted out of the wild shores of Sorez, weatherbeaten and hard.

Instinctively, I hid behind my mother's skirt.

"Anda," The tall man muttered. He wore a vest coat and dress shirt, almost like a scholar though the way he scowled at everything he could easily belong at the most roughest of ship and crew in the port.

"Hello Arn," my mother greeted back, meekly. She reached out and tried to pat me forward, like some foal who was about to spook and bolt into the forest.

"Come now, Anri, don't be afraid. Come meet your Uncle Arnao. My brother."