It had started out as a peaceful day with pristine weather. The sun above them, the breeze gentle, barely a white cloud to blemish the blue sky. Only Nelanna in his arms made the moment perfect. But as sudden as a crack of thunder, everything quickly became nightmarish. Cecil tried his best to stay by his beloved as the ship rocked violently. Unfortunately, the fae found it quite difficult to keep his footing. Every time he fell, the ship would pitch to the other side during his attempts to get up.

Finally, he caught his balance, found Nelanna reaching for him, and held onto both her and the railing of the ship. Together, they braced for impact. By sheer dumb luck, the couple managed to avoid being washed overboard. The second wave, however, succeeded where the first had failed, leaving them to fight the angry ocean for air. Cecil and Nelanna breached the surface, and he helped her find a grip on a barrel that popped up beside them.

To his horror, the ship groaned in protest as it began to roll over in defeat of the storm. Of all things, it was the broken mast that falling straight towards them! Cecil threw himself over Nelanna, bracing once more for the impact. That was the last thing he remembered as his consciousness was hurled into a black void.
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Cecil groaned as he slowly came to consciousness. His head throbbed, throat felt dry and raw, his body ached. The worst of it seemed to be his shoulder and back. Images of the storm raced across his mind, causing Cecil to bolt upright frantically looking for Nelanna, his back screaming in protest. With the exception of seagulls, the fae was alone, on a foreign beach. After calling her name and receiving no response, the fae got to his feet and began heading to the closest sign of civilization with the desperate hope that his beloved was there.

He ignored the stabbing pain to his back and believed that moist trickle running down his spine naught but sweat from exerting an already beat up body. As he made his way past the guards and towering walls, he noticed odd stares and glances his way, blissfully unaware of his tattered, salt crusted and bloody clothing, the gnarly scrape on his cheek where he had hit some coral while unconscious, his bruised arms turning deep purple where exposed. Perhaps the most startling part of his appearance was the deep and quite gruesome gash from his right shoulder down his back. Although… He was aware of the lameness he felt in that arm.

Cecil pushed his growling stomach’s demands for the food which gave that tantalizing aroma from his mind. Instead, he continued forward until he found a merchant selling parchment and charcoal pencils. After purchasing himself some, the fae drew a rather disappointingly crude visage of his wife, as it was the injured arm that he primarily used, making it difficult to wield the pencil with finesse. Regardless, the picture would suffice. He began showing it around to anyone and everyone.

”Have you seen this woman? Seen my wife? Excuse me, sir, have you seen this elf?”

Heavy rains had hit Mamjaku suddenly, with the usual thunder and lightning to crack and flash the skies. Camthorn stayed in an inn the entire night, enjoying some whiskey before turning in. It wasn’t until morning came that he learned the sea had been angered, causing a violent storm that had made its way over the town. The town itself had not been harmed, nor any of its residents aside from the startled stable animals. Driven by his curiosity he headed straight for the beach and gazed upon the vast sea. It was this walk on the beach that led him to the unexpected.

His dog Kronos was the one who found her, the elf woman with fiery locks. The scent of blood had caught the canine’s attention. She was lying on the sand unconscious with a large gash between her breasts, and the sand stained red beneath her head. Without hesitation Camthorn hoisted her onto his stallion and raced back into town. He searched for any healer willing to help her, desperate to save her before her weak pulse stopped for good. Fortunately there was a clinic of healers within the town who all agreed to help the elf. But shortly after taking her from him, Camthorn was no longer welcomed. He tried to see her, to make sure she was alright, but the healers would allow no passage into her room. Though frustrated, he was left with no other choice than to leave. He wished he had been able to stay, to see her once she awakens. If she awakens. Something about her looked awfully familiar. Perhaps it was only a coincidence, but he would like to know either way.

He made his way back down the streets, guiding his stallion -a handsome Friesian with a wavy, flowing mane and tail- towards the stables. Kronos was trotting at his side with a happy pant. The overgrown cane corso had a silvery blue coat, sleek and shiny with dark eyes. His build was sturdy, his size measuring as big as a mastiff. The sight of him alone was enough to put everyone on edge. Fortunately he was a gentle dog, one that is well trained and only attacks on Camthorn’s command.

If it wasn’t the voice of the snowy haired man that caught Camthorn’s attention, it was the fact that Kronos was suddenly very interested in him. His stubby tail stuck straight out, his nose high as he sniffed the elf from afar. Then he trotted towards the man, stuffing his nose all over him. “Back, get back,” Camthorn commanded, pulling on the dog’s collar to move him away from the stranger. “I apologize. He must’ve smelled something interesting on you,” he said with an apologetic smile. Briefly he glanced over the man, noting how rough and banged up he looks. His hair was messy, clothing was wet and carried the scent of the salty ocean. Then, he finally noticed the piece of paper he was holding.

He blinked at the image, raising his brow. It wasn’t perfect, but he was certain the image matched the woman he had taken to the clinic earlier. His curiosity raised sky high, and he looked back up into the stranger’s sapphire eyes. “You seek this woman?” He asked firmly.

How many people did he ask? How many times did he get negative answers or rude brush-offs? Cecil would not rest, though, not until he asked every last soul in this walled town. Many were from Canelux, of that he could tell. Some Onnenians mingled, sticking out like a sore thumb. Yet it was not they who were the foreigners to these lands. If they fae must compare, the Onnenians were probably more kindly in their responses, regardless of the fact that it was not favorable news. 

When all hope seemed lost, that none here had laid eyes on his beloved Nelanna, and Cecil growing weary, a giant beast of a dog invaded his space, noisily sniffing at him. The poor man stumbled back a step, staring dumbly at the creature. It was as if he simply did not know how to react, which was almost the case. Cecil needed to make sure she was okay. He could not lose her again! They had vowed! Another being entered his vision, a new face.

The picture was lifted in automatic response to the apology. "Please…" There was something different about this person, the way he studied the drawing, the lack of denial, the open question. Hope filled the fae. "Yes! This is Nelanna, my wife. Have you seen her?!" Perhaps it was the way she absorbed his consciousness, his driving thought. But the longer he stared at the man before him, the more details he noticed, and the more similarities to Nelanna he found.

His brow furrowed with pity for the man and his response. He seemed almost broken, like he was lost. Or in this case, he lost someone and couldn’t find them. But it seemed it was Camthorn’s question that had brought life back into the stranger. His eyes were pleading, desperate, as he informed Camthorn of who the woman was to him. But her name, that is what really caught his attention. “Nelanna, you say?” He question almost disbelievingly, then looked back down at the picture. He recalled hearing of his elder sister from his parents before he left. She had gone missing one day and never found, their “beloved daughter of fire”. Though they never spoke much about her as a person, they spoke of her name often, or rather her title in their household: Nelanna Rey Lockheart, second born of the Lockheart family.

He had always wondered what had happened to her all those years ago. Had she been kidnapped? Possibly murdered? Knowing his parents he wouldn’t have been surprised if they’ve made enemies that harmed his sister to harm the family. But he had wished that she had been there with him to help him through his childhood. All this time, even after all these years he still wished he could have at least met her. And here is a man, searching for the woman he helped earlier. A complete stranger who may have been his sister. It is possible that she shared her name by coincidence only, but the resemblances she had to his mother made him awfully suspicious. He had noticed their similar features before, but it never crossed his mind that they could be siblings.

He forced his excitement down so that it wouldn’t show, instead acting out of his unmeasurable curiosity. “I found a woman resembling the one in your sketch earlier this morning,” he replied, crossing his arms over his firm chest with a strong choice of tone. “She was severely injured on the beach, unconscious. I took her to a clinic for healing,” he paused and slid his eyes up and down the man’s figure, raising a brow. If this man was her husband as he claimed, then that would make him Camthorn’s brother in-law. If this woman truly is his sister. However, his brotherly side was kicking in, and it was telling him not to be so quick to trust the man. “You look as if you too could use a visit to the clinic. I am more than willing to take you there for healing, but I cannot say the same about seeing this woman. They would not even allow me to see her.”

The hope that surged through Cecil was so strong, tears sprang to his eyes. It was a beautiful feeling. Nelanna was injured, however, which was unsurprising considering their recent ordeal. Knowing this did not make the glimmer of light in his previously growing despair diminish. Cecil shook his head. ”I’ll stop and rest when I can see my wife.” He had heard of rescuers falling for the rescued. While this was one concern in most situations, the fae half doubted this would happen for them. Of course, this was dismissing the way he fell for Nelanna, his own rescuer. Completely different story.

Who was this elf to demand visitation rights at the place of healing? Cecil had a solid case, but this guy did nothing but bring her in for services. ”Please, lead me to this clinic?” He would follow him to the ends of the earth if it was promised she was there, with obvious doubts of its distance. But this was right here in this city. Sure enough, they found the clinic.

All but forgetting about the elf, Cecil caught the arm of a bustling healer. ”My name is Cecil Elindi. This is a picture of my wife, Nelanna. You have her here. I need to see her, please.” The nurse glanced at the picture as she ripped herself out of his grasp. ”I’m sorry, sir. Clinic rules. No visitation for anyone until they can request it. If you’ll excuse me, we are very busy with various sailors washed in with last night’s storm. Vanessa, get this man a bed, he’ll also be needing our services.”

A small woman, maybe sixteen, tried to kindly escort him, to which Cecil refused. ”What do you mean? I can’t see my wife because she’s unconscious?! I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for her, and you deny me access?” His voice was dangerously low, almost a growl. ”Please sir, you need healing, or you won’t live to see her when she wakes.” Vanessa insisted, reaching his hand. Cecil’s anger and impatience only grew. ”Not until I see my wife!”

Camthorn stiffened the very moment tears shone in the man’s eyes. Hope filled the white haired elf so clearly Camthorn could see it swell in his eyes and overflow onto his face. His brow creased as he gave a lopsided frown. “If you insist.” He threw up his hands in defeat and turned around, guiding him back to the clinic from which he came. It was a surprisingly large building made from fine and sturdy dark stone. Windows of the same shape and size marked every room on each floor, with white curtains covering most to keep the early sun from disturbing patients who didn’t want it. They walked inside to see a large room with tile flooring and white walls. Each seat was occupied by an injured sailor. The nurses were all in a hurry to help those in dire need of assistance.

Without him noticing the white haired man snuck away from his side and found the nearest nurse. Already he was questioning her. She pulled away and denied his request. Camthorn frowned. He had warned him, but the elf didn’t listen. In fact, he was quite stubborn. He refused help from the new nurse and pressed on about Nelanna. “Hey, calm down,” Camthorn said as softly as he could to Cecil once he started getting too riled up. Again, the nurses tried helping him, but he was too upset. Well then, if he wasn’t going to calm down and listen, then they needed an alternative. Camthorn took a swing at Cecil, hitting him hard enough to throw him back onto the floor. He was knocked out cold. The room fell silent as he shook his now aching hand. “There, now maybe you’ll learn to listen.”

“What is going on here?” The new voice made Camthorn spin on his heel. A male elf had entered the room with a clipboard in his hand. His shaggy hair was like the purest gold with large eyes as green as fresh, lush grass in spring. Fair was his skin and lacking blemishes of any kind, his body lean, but the way his black and green overcoat fit his frame suggested there was more than skin and bone underneath.

“Doctor,” Venessa gasped. Camthorn straightened his clothes and replied, “This man was being difficult and refusing treatment. I had to stop him somehow.”

“So you hit him?” Said the doctor as he approached Cecil, crouching next to him and examining his head. “You could have given him a concussion,” his hard glare made Camthorn wince. “Venessa, help me get him to a room”— the doctor looked at the other nurse— “I need you to get bandages and medicine for these injuries, as well as something to cleanse them with.” Without even nodding they did as he said. The elf was hoisted up and taken away, leaving Camthorn in the waiting room.

A fist flew in his vision as a blur. Cecil did not have the time to react as it connected with his jaw. His world instantly went black, blissfully unaware of gravity pulling at his body, or the loving smack the floor gave the back of his head. The nurses moved him to a cot to relocate him to a room. His wounds were tended to, stitched and bandaged. They concluded that he was also a victim of the storm from the piece of coral they found embedded in his back.

Cecil woke with a start, glancing around in confusion. His head throbbed and he had no idea where he was, or where Nelanna was either. What he did remember was a somewhat familiar elf punching him. If he ever saw the elf again… It was then he noticed the bandages on his chest. Did someone patch him up? Of course! He was last at a hospital where Nelanna might be, so it made a bit of sense that one of the nurses tended to him after losing consciousness. A nurse came in and smiled at him. "I heard you gave one of my coworkers a hard time. Would you be nicer now that you have gained some rest and been treated?"

The fae nodded mutely, watching as she came in and fitted him with an arm sling. "We found stuff in your back. So don't move this arm much while you heal, 'kay?" Again, he mutely nodded when a male elf came in. He had a white coat on, suggesting a doctor. "Ah, you're up. How do you feel?" Cecil gave a half shrug. "Would be better if I can see my wife." "Your wife?" "Nelanna Elindi. Gorgeous, elvish, turquoise eyes, flaming red hair." "Ah, about that. The elf you came in with mentioned that. I come bearing good news. She is up and accepting visitors. You may visit her shortly. Anna here can show you the way." And he left, checking the papers in his hand.

The nurse Anna helped Cecil to his feet and draped an open front shirt over his shoulders. This left a majority of his chest hidden by bandages with the exception of his stomach. Anna guided him from his room through the compound until they came upon a room that was familiar. "Camthorn? Follow me, please." They were in the entrance which doubled as a waiting room. Camthorn turned out to be the name of the elf who punched him, but Cecil was too preoccupied with Nelanna on his mind to care for now.

Finally, they were led to a room where his personal goddess resided. She had been propped up to a sitting position as she stared out the window. Cecil's heart skipped a beat to look upon her as relief flooded through him. "Nelanna!" He rushed forward and grabbed her hand, pulling it to his lips as he kissed her knuckles. "I was afraid I lost you, Cherie. But I promise, once you are on your feet again, we will not take any more boats and we will search for Ensarrian and Kohaku together." Cecil kissed her hand again before he noticed an odd look in her eyes.

Concern and dread filled him. Fear fell like a stone to the pit of his stomach. 'Don't let it be so! Don't let it be so! Let it be my imagination, don't let her have forgotten!' He silently prayed as he asked her, fearing the answer he would get. "Cherie, what's wrong?" Cecil didn't know what he would do if she had forgotten him, their love, accomplishments, dreams, and memories. To have it all washed away…