The aged elf Bram was worn down, worn by travel through planes,
worlds, and portals. Since Bram and his
people had arrived on this forming plane, many younger voices pleaded with him to allow their study
of the shadowed dark magic that permeated this still forming world. Bram now heard the request from his wife Sarai,
pleading with him to allow their sons to build a series of portals, portals that would
allow the elves to travel these lands quickly and safely. Bram looked up at his wife and admonished her,
“Have you forgotten? The tools you use are the choices you make.” The old elf tried to say it forcefully, to
remind her, but his frail form failed him now and his words echoed weakly. His wife smiled, loving her husband but
believing his time to have passed, his concerns less than valid. “Have faith
that Iasmael and Ze’ach will choose the best tools. They will not fail us.”
Sarai left her frail husband in his chambers coughing and grumbling
about safety. Her arcane enhanced sight
told her that her husband was in his final days, the choices of their people no
longer his to make. It still pained Sarai
to refer to Iasmael as her son but she had done so hoping that Bram would
concede if both of his sons wanted to proceed with these portals. Sarai wished she could love Iasmael, the eldest, as her own. Her anger at her husband’s betrayal with the concubine Agara prevented her
from doing anything other than accepting the bastard’s presence. She was
grateful the two half brothers got along so well and knew that they loved each
other without reservation. Sarai decided to inform Iasmael to begin.
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