Brandyé Dui-Erâth was born under a low red moon to awful circumstances. Mere moments after his birth, the house in which he was born was engulfed in flame and burned to the ground around him. The men and women of the village flocked to the scene and looked on helplessly, knowing with sadness that the family who lived there had perished.
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With two days yet to pass before Faevre’s trial, Brandyé found himself in the midst of much haste—so much so that he had little time to consider the consequences of the path he was now treading. He did not again meet with the Scythe’s Blood in their cellar, but rather spent his time with Elven, who led him here and there to meet with various people who were to help him prepare for the deed that awaited him.
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Brandyé and Sonora passed an uncomfortable night in a field perhaps half a mile from the great gates of Daevàr’s Hut. The weather had turned against them during the afternoon, and now that the light had dropped from the clouds, a thick and chilling mist filled the air and forebode rain. Their cloaks were soon damp, and Brandyé found he could not light a fire; they ate a little stale biscuit and hard cheese, and were hungry. Even Isabella, though her hide ought to have kept her sheltered, seemed disaffected by the gloom and settled some paces away, spending the night snorting uncomfortably.
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Satis Writes 