Chapter Text
Sometime during Year 135 of the 5th Age.
Bannbreker.
Now, that was a name he couldn’t – wouldn’t – forget. Ever since he had heard it fall from the quavering mouth of that deranged sailor in Nabor’s asylum, it had rattled around in the back of his mind, a seemingly rogue thought among many.
As he watched the young man amble his way through Taverly, however, the thought found purchase, sinking its claws deep into his curiosity and refusing to let go.
The man was a tall, gangly affair with a woodcutter’s axe hanging from his belt; an insignificant looking human if there ever was one. The only thing that stood out was his name.
Bannbreker. Have I finally found you?
He slunk out from the shadow of a towering oak tree and wound his way across the street, inching closer to the man. As he did, he racked his memory, forming the image of that long dead sailor hanging from the bars of his cell behind his eyes.
“Do you really think you can save them, Finley Bannbreker? You can’t.”
He drew himself up beside Bannbreker, just half a foot – and half a dimension – from the man’s shoulder, and peered down at him. Even this close, he still couldn’t see what made the man either capable of time travel or the bearer of some great, cosmic destiny that defied the ages.
Suddenly, Bannbreker’s face lit up, a goofy, lopsided smile breaking his face.
“Ava!” With that, he broke into a jog. Sliske quickened his own pace, following him towards a small house on the side of the road. A young woman stood there, another unremarkable human, and she met Bannbreker in the street, nearly throwing herself into his arms.
“Liam! What a surprise!”
Sliske hissed at the revelation, shaking his head. The man was a Bannbreker, yes, but not the right one.
He would just have to look again. Perhaps this Liam had a sibling named Finley. A cousin, a nibling, or even…
A child?
Well, if he didn’t already, things certainly seemed to be headed in that direction, if the way the two humans embraced was any indication.
Yes, he could see it. A child of these two revelers might just be the key he had been looking for since the Second Age.
He could wait. Not long, but he could wait.
30, Novtumber, 136 of the 5th Age
The first Bannbreker child came in late autumn, heralded by the falling maple leaves and the overwhelming scent of pine sap.
A girl, screaming her proportionally oversized head off.
Sliske wanted so badly to plug his ears and rid himself of that terrible racket, but he needed his hearing.
He needed to hear her name.
Liam, the father, passed the newborn to Ava and wiped a sweaty lock of hair from her face.
“What should we name her?” he asked. Ava cradled the howling newborn against her chest, breathing heavy from labor.
“Athrhan,” she gasped. “Athrhan Bannbreker.”
Sliske grumbled, stepping deeper into the Shadow Realm.
He might have to wait a bit longer.
1, Fentuary, 138 of the 5th Age
The second child came a little over a year and a half after the first.
A boy, thankfully quieter than his sister.
Liam named the child this time.
“Sullivan,” he said with a firm nod. “After my grandfather.”
Biting back a curse, Sliske stalked off once again.
He was getting tired of waiting.
11, Moevyng, 140 of the 5th Age
The third child wouldn’t come.
Fantastic. This might be the one, and it refuses to be born.
It had been many hours since Ava went into labor, and still, it felt like no progress had been made.
Liam was panicking.
Ava was screaming.
The now three-year-old Athrhan was holding tight to the sobbing one-year-old Sullivan, not making a single sound.
Sliske was pacing the floor, wringing his hands.
Finally, though the Shadow Realm muffled the sound, a newborn was wailing.
Sliske darted to the bedside and peered over the new life as it was cradled by its thoroughly exhausted mother.
A girl.
“Wow,” Ava panted, stroking the infant’s head. “This little warrior was nearly the end of me.”
Liam chuckled weakly.
“Our little warrior,” he mumbled, voice half a step from sobbing. Suddenly, his head shot up, his gaze locking with Ava’s. “There’s a name. Finley.”
A wild smile worked its way across Sliske’s face.
Finally.
“Aye. Finley Bannbreker. Our little warrior.”
FINALLY!
Sliske darted off into the far reaches of the Shadow Realm, where the barking, inhuman laughter that boiled from his throat could not be heard.
Later…
Satisfied that no one was around to see him, he stepped from the Shadow Realm and crossed the room, stepping lightly on the unfortunately creaky wooden floor. A cradle sat before him; it had once held the sleeping forms of the first two Bannbreker children.
Now, however, it held the third.
The Bannbreker child he had waited for.
He bent over the infant, now a few weeks old, and ever so gently stroked the top of her head, feeling the soft wisps of almost invisible hair tickle his fingertips. She stirred in her sleep at the action, sputtering comically, and he smiled.
The wait was over. Now, he would watch and see.
“Finley Bannbreker,” he very nearly cooed.
“My little warrior.”