That night was the sixth night, their last before the duel.
The clan held a formal gathering, ostensibly to honor Jorghan as Sarhita's chosen mate, but everyone knew it was more than that. This might be a memorial, a final celebration before one or both of them died.
The ceremony was beautiful and heartbreaking. Sarhita wore traditional garments that seemed to be woven from sunset itself, all flowing reds and golds that complemented her pale red skin and liquid gold eyes. Jorghan wore clothes the clan had provided—not traditional Nuwe'rak attire, which wouldn't fit his shorter frame, but something elegant and respectful that acknowledged both his outsider status and his acceptance into their community.
Kal'thun spoke formally about bonds and courage, about choosing one's path even when that path led into danger. Other clan members offered blessings, gifts, tokens of respect. The mood was simultaneously celebratory and somber, joy and grief intermingled.
