Arius takes uncommon delight in his world. It is kindled deep inside. ‘You’ve got a spark in you, son. A fiery little splinter of the Everlight’, his father had said.
On Kirda’s pristine heights, beside Isarea’s bright-shining streams… the young man spends as much time as he can in such places. The company of his family or friends makes those opportunities sweeter still.
He knows that some lose their hold on the wonder and beauty, as day-to-day cares increase. But Arius knows too that it is snatched from many. Stolen from them.
He may take more joy than most from the natural marvels of Tyros, but his acute awareness is a double-edged sword. He cannot help but see a world scarred by wounds uncounted, ever riven by new bloody cuts.
The strong prey on those weaker than themselves. Talon and beak tears the rabbit: the hawk takes what it must, what it needs. People are different. Wanting more is common enough, but some are ready to take it by whatever means.
Whether petty tyrant of a tavern or enthroned warlord, Arius cannot look the other way.
The spark in him is a blessing. But it may just ignite a wildfire.
