Working on a new story; hopefully this will be a one shot. =)

“As dusk settled over the tundra, a ghostly white-green haze crept down from the north. It easily could have been dismissed as a veil of high clouds from its shape and transparency. However, by the time the last of the sun’s light vanished over the horizon and was replaced by the pale faces of the harvest moons the sky over Mille Seseau burned with color. Luminous bolts of emerald, blood red, blue, and gold arced, flickered into nexuses, and flowed into ribbons of color.

It was as though the Old Ones, the Giganto Elders long since consigned to dust and forgotten, approved of Kongol’s improvised coming of age ceremony for his son. There was just something good and right in a primal, unexplainable sort of way as the mingled firelight and glory from the aurora high above reflected off the youth’s upturned face. He couldn’t help but decide it had to be nothing but approval, given all the concessions he had been forced to make.

Kongol was surprised he had even barely remembered the script; afterall, it had been ages since he had come of age. At least he had had a genuine ceremony, performed as it should have happened. On the other hand, he supposed he couldn’t even count that for much. Where Emperor Doel had found that fragile, old shaman he would never know. The image in his mind was of a Giganto so old he barely looked like one of his people; a man so old he expired the night following the ceremony.

Still, he wistfully longed his son could have had even that much.

The Dragoon watched the youth’s expression, hoping for a sign of his impression of the ceremony. Zeratul was quiet, pensive as he watched the lights high above with dark eyes set in a soft face still caught in the limbo between child and man.

“You carry the future and the past with you. Your strength will decide your path.” After so many years of speaking the human tongue, the nearly dead language of his people felt as right as the glow on Zeratul’s features. “Remember: We’re nearly… the last.”

The word “nearly” caught on his tongue - for ages Kongol had thought himself to be the last of the mighty Gigantos. He had been honored with a wife and son for a long time, but a part of him still hadn’t accepted the fact he wasn’t the last afterall.

He still remembered the day he ventured back to Lohan with Haschel that one year and seeing a woman that towered over the humans. Her thick, dark hair had been pulled back into a war-braid and she had been selling the fine pelts from numerous great beasts. If Kongol hadn’t known then she was a Giganto, feeling her eyes on his back and knowing they were covered by a similar tribal tattoo done in scarlet. The Dragoon had continued onward, feeling breathless as his heart had pounded thunderously within his chest.

Her name was Mahala and in the classic style of Giganto women, she wasn’t about to let him get away quite that easily. In fact, she wasn’t about to let him get away - period.

Zeratul nodded absently at the statement, not truly listening. His thoughts were elsewhere; in a where and when only the Gods knew. “

And that’s all I have so far. =)