He did not Moon Warp back to Torchline after leaving the Festival. The quiet grief of the night was not a burden, but it made his feet restless in a way that led him further into King's End rather than home once more. Nysadeia's body had been found here after the last LongNight, Void-tainted and empty of the bright, haughty soul that had once filled it. Hadama had stopped to pay his respects at the river she had been pulled from, but once that task was done he had let his feet carry them where they would.
It was almost a surprise to see the lights of New Haven ahead of him. Lanterns lit every home and street corner brighter than usual on this night; lost loved ones remembered and set to blaze against the dark. His own lanterns were carried on one long arm, held close and dear for all that they were as dark as the robes of his hanfu as he paced into the town and the celebrations of life and death, memory and love, taking place therein.
He did not know the people there, and so he passed quietly among them without pausing until he found a small, silent square on the far side of town. A fire had been set to burning on a raised stone pedestal in the center of a fountain at the meeting of two lanes; perhaps a monument to Frey. Perhaps one to Dygra. Hadama did not know, but he paused to admire the play of the flames over the water and the quiet chime of water droplets falling back into their pool around the central blaze.
It was almost a surprise to see the lights of New Haven ahead of him. Lanterns lit every home and street corner brighter than usual on this night; lost loved ones remembered and set to blaze against the dark. His own lanterns were carried on one long arm, held close and dear for all that they were as dark as the robes of his hanfu as he paced into the town and the celebrations of life and death, memory and love, taking place therein.
He did not know the people there, and so he passed quietly among them without pausing until he found a small, silent square on the far side of town. A fire had been set to burning on a raised stone pedestal in the center of a fountain at the meeting of two lanes; perhaps a monument to Frey. Perhaps one to Dygra. Hadama did not know, but he paused to admire the play of the flames over the water and the quiet chime of water droplets falling back into their pool around the central blaze.
