The day before the end of the month, when Adam was particularly under the clouds, though without the wisdom to spoil Amal or Kizwolima properly, over hundreds of miles away towards the west, the Front Iyr filled with greater joy. 

The silver scaled girl had smelled him from afar, charging through the other Iyrmen, before almost tackling her youngest sibling. “Xarot!”

The boy jolted lightly, turning his head towards the large form. The pretty face, the silver scales, the nubs which formed her horns. At first his heart pounded with shock, then excitement, as the boy smiled brightly, until he was swallowed within his sister’s arms as she showered him in affection. 

“You are growing too quickly,” Konarot said, her tail swaying wildly behind her in joy, while Kirot and Karot waited for their turn to greet their youngest sibling. Kirot glanced aside, towards Monarot, who stared at Konarot and Xarot, blinking innocently, before their eyes met, and the girl smiled. Kirot sauntered over and hugged the girl. 

“Monarot, you are too big now,” Kirot teased, her tail swaying wildly behind her in joy, the girl squealing and cackling in delight as she was showered in her cousin’s affection. 

A gasp filled the air. “Virot, look! It’s papa Xarot!”

Virot gasped, her mouth forming a tiny circle as she glanced aside to her older sister and brother, before they charged towards the group. 

“Oyoyoyo, it is little Monarot too?” Jirot mused, reaching for the girl’s cheek. “You can stand so well!”

Vonda blinked, glancing between her children, all of whom were certainly the children of a particular fool. She smiled, leaning back within her chair, falling deeper into thought, since the babes were in such good hands. 

“Papos, kakos, you are here too?” Jirot asked, skipping her way towards them, allowing each of them to greet her with a hug and a ruffle of her hair. 

“Here,” Gurot confirmed, hugging his niece tight, kissing the side of her forehead, before doing the same to little Jarot. “We are learning tomorrow, Front Iyr.”

“Oh!” Jirot nodded her head, as though it made total sense. 

As the horde of children gathered and sat beside one another, all speaking of this and that, while they fed one another, save for Xarot and Monarot, who were doing their best to pick up pieces of soft vegetables to chew. 

“What are you doing, Xarot? How you can do this to me? You cannot grow so big!” Jirot tutted, but even she could not resist the urge to hold his head against her chest, brushing the boy’s hair. “Monarot, you think because you are so cute I will forgive you?”

Monarot blinked up towards her sleepily, yawning. 

“How do you know?” Jirot asked, reaching up to her heart, which ached from how adorable her siblings and cousins were. “Damrot, you must tell her to stop. You are her elder brother, she will listen to you.”

Damrot just blinked, glancing aside to Virot, who returned a blink, before the pair cackled with troublesomeness towards the girl. 

“You are your fathers children,” Jirot said, reaching up to her head, groaning quietly. 

The one armed and one legged Iyrman turned red hot with rage, using it to stop his jaw from opening as he shook violently. Mulrot, too, ended up meditation to stop herself from laughing, while Gangak’s eyes let slip tears, her entire face tense. 

Meanwhile, at the gates of the Front Iyr, a figure adorned all in white tipped her large straw hat. “My, oh my, this is the Valley of Death?”

The several Iyrman outside each eyed up the figure, whose ears were leafshaped, beautiful hawk like eyes through the cloth mask. She raised a hand, as though about to open the gates. The gates shifted, revealing the well dressed Front Iyr Elder, whose eyes pressed upon her heavily.

“How oppressive,” the woman joked, flashing a wide smile, her face and form hidden behind clothing that was almost Aswadian, but betrayed her heritage which came further east, further north, from the distant lands in which dragons were rumoured to rule. 

As she stepped through the Front Iyr, she paused, noting the squeals and cries from, a particular set of children. 

“Babo! Nano!” Jirot cried aloud, rushing up to them, before stopping as she noted the stranger. Konarot stepped beside her sister, noting the way the stranger stared at the girl so curiously, and she stepped in front, and slightly to the side, covering the girl. 

“Goblins?” the stranger asked, her voice filled with such delighted confusion.

“Iyrmen,” Shaool replied simply, stepping forward to ruffle the children’s hair, meanwhile Dogek bowed his head towards the little ones. 

Meanwhile, the stranger could feel it, the gaze of the Iyrmen within. She wondered just how many Iyrmen there were, and how many continued to watch her from the shadows, feeling and sensing the ungodly forms of those who had betrayed the Mother of Life. 

‘The rumours of the Iyr’s might were not exaggerated in the slightest,’ the woman thought.

“You brats! How can you leave me so alone and so cold, just to greet your babos and nanos?” exclaimed a crippled Iyrman, though his voice held a touch of softness. 

Jirot cackled, hugging Shaool, turning back to smirk at her greatfather, hugging the woman tighter. 

“You should return back to your greatfather, we must escort the guest to the Main Iyr,” Shaool said, brushing the girl’s cheek. 

“Okay, okay,” Jirot said, her eyes falling curiously on the woman. 

“Hello,” the woman called out. 

“Hello,” Jirot replied. “I am Jirot, daughter of Ray Vonda and Executive Adam.”

“Ray Vonda? Is that of… Life’s Rose?” 

“Yes!” Jirot declared. 

The woman’s eyes darted around, finding a woman with burn marks across her lower face, along with the silver symbol of the sun beneath the rose. The stranger bowed her head, and Vonda returned a bow of her head, but after a moment, the stranger turned and left, only to stop. 

“Oh my, oh my, I forgot to introduce myself,” the woman said. “I am Soza.”

“Oh! Mummy, did you hear that? Her name is Soza!”

“I heard,” Vonda replied, assuming why the woman had taken the time to greet her so respectfully. 

“My name is Jirot, my papa’s name is Jarot, like babo,” Jirot said, pointing to her greatfather, whose eyes remained focused like a tiger’s upon the woman. 

“Babo? Your… grandfather?”

“My greatfather.”

“Greatfather?”

“Um, mm, great grandfather,” the girl explained, trying to recall the way the Aldish would describe their great grandfather, since they had the luxury of time.

“I was named after my grandmother too,” Soza said, her eyes beaming down at the boy, who retreated behind his sister shyly. Thankfully, the woman tipped her hat, and continued along her way, allowing the Iyrmen to relax once more. 

Jarot wondered what kind of guest they had received at such a time, especially one who held such little presence. The pair of blades at her side, though, were certainly of no ordinary make, though he had not recognised the designs. 

The woman continued, heading further into the Iyr, escorted by the likes of five different Paragons, shadowed by various other Iyrmen. 

It wasn’t long until she felt another gaze upon her, the azure scaled woman staring down at her from afar, even farther than the sight of the Iyrmen beside her. 

‘I see the relationship remains close?’ Soza thought.

It wasn’t long before the rain began to all across the Iyr. It continued into the next morning, causing even Jirot to raise her brow. 

“Mummy, it is raining so much?” The girl glanced around, for though there were sometimes noonval showers, they did not last this long, all night and into the morning? Especially so heavily?

“I do not know,” Vonda admitted. 

‘It rains so much in duskval, but not now,’ the girl thought. There had been the gentle rumble of thunder, and the flashes of lightning from afar, but that hadn’t lasted long at all. 

The children made their way to be taught, from Lanarot to the triplets, while Jirot and Jarot were both taken away to be taught by their mother, who mostly allowed Jirot to study by herself as she assisted Jarot. The toddlers would also begin to learn soon, already taken to begin studying lightly, though returning back to play soon after. 

Meanwhile, Umbra walked through the forest of the Iyr, feeling various gazes upon her skin, though all but ignoring them. She stared down at her hands, clenching her fists, her azure scales sparkling lightly under the heavy noonval sun, while the rain poured all across her. 

‘Even after borrowing father’s Spark…’ Umbra thought back to the elven woman, who had led to the rain falling upon the Iyr. It had been so long since she had managed to fight so freely, but this body of hers was too young, too new, to draw out the strength of her true age. She sighed, staring up at the sky, the water beating against her face. ‘If she is an aunt to me, then aren’t I an aunt to…’

Umbra’s heart grew with annoyance.

The elf stepped off of the Iyr’s land, letting out a sigh of relief, the pressure against her entire body slipping away. She threw a look over her shoulder, feeling the various gazes, as well as those of the pair of Paragons who had escorted her out. She bowed her head towards them and continued along her way. 

‘Father, this entire time, I thought you spoke too highly, but…’ At first, the woman had thought she would need to assassinate the so called Reaver King to help the children of the Iyr, but after meeting them, she realised just how worthless such a thought was. ‘If they wished to invade this land, they should have brought their greater forces. I suppose I’ll just have to wait for the next Demonic Invasion before I have my fun?’

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I really should write more Interludes! They're so fun!