Timestamp: 27th day of Spring, 514 AV
Athaera wandered through the alleyways and streets of Syliras. She somehow knew the way home after four years of traveling. A giddy feeling rose inside her as her boots kicked up dust and her cloak billowed out behind her.
But as Athaera wound through the familiar alleyways and roads, she arrived at her house... or rather where her house used to be... to see a burnt, dilapidated mess. A lone tear began to dribble down her cheek, but she brushed it away before it properly left her eyelid. She didn't cry. Athaera hadn't cried since her parents died. She'd learned to be numb to the sorrow, but just then she cracked.
Athaera sat down on the charred wood that was once her home. Sobs shook her body and her clothing was soaked in the tears that had been bottled up for so long. What was it? Nine years? It didn't matter now. She was no longer strong, no longer the Athaera she had trained herself to be. She'd cracked, a disappointment to herself.
She slapped herself on the knee. "Snap out of it, Athaera," she muttered, wiping the salty drops from her face.
"We tried to stop them."
Athaera turned around to see a man. It took her a minute to realize he had been her sister's friend. What was his name? It didn't matter. "Stop who?"
"There were a couple kids who thought it would be funny to burn your house down," he replied.
Athaera laughed a bit at that, but it was forced. He offered for her to stay at his house, and she gratefully accepted. it would be nice to finally sleep in a bed. She stayed there a bit longer, and he held her in a friendly hug. Athaera knew it was nothing more than an act of friendship. It was an unspoken fact.