Zarek & Alba: Twinborn of the Syl’Akir Clan

23 years ago, a very expectant mother took what shelter she could from the deadly Sirocco sandstorm. The Syl’Akir Clan’s long-kept oral history detailed the rare meeting of winds that caused the deadly event. It was most unfortunate that her labor had started on the day that only came every thousand or so years. Delivery is difficult enough under the best of conditions; despite this, she soon listened to Alba’s cries and was startled when hard labor continued. When the raging wind carried two babies’ cries to the ear of the village elder, she arose and hobbled quickly down the cave to the expectant mother. Her eyes landed on the joyful face of the new mother, a baby in each arm. Tufts of white hair peeked out from one of the bundles, and fiery red from the top of the other. Eyes wide, the elder’s knees gave way. “No,” she muttered. Fear and dread tore at her expression, and her heart stuttered. “Twinborn Sirocco.”

Despite the day’s devastation and the mysterious death of the village elder, the clan pressed on. Alba and Zarek grew in height and disposition. Zarek attacked the challenges of life with a quick wit and a sharp tongue. Alba preferred to actually think things out before methodically implementing the perfect, yet artful, solution. Both, though, understood the honor and heart you find when you help others. Alba did so in quiet, anonymous ways. Zarek, in turn, would turn his sharp tongue on those who oppressed others.

Upon their 18th birthdays, Alba and Zarek left the Syl’Akir clan behind. Hundreds of years before, the clan had chosen to abandon nomadic life and settle in a valley near an aquifer. At the time of the dramatic shift, the elders had devised a new custom. At eighteen, each member of the clan was required to leave. They were to seek apprenticeships and learning among other clans or settlements. The desert was vast, so doing so ensured the young individuals would learn fully of their ancestors’ ways.

Parting from family is always difficult. Parting from your twin is more so. Zarek and Alba embraced, and then turned to start their own journeys. They were to meet in the Syl’Akir valley in three years, on their 21st birthdays.

Alba’s artistic and precise nature inspired quick learning in the field of glass blowing. Her process was efficient and deliberate, but her creations were as stunning and unique as her voice. Her intellect devoured tomes on spells, and it wasn’t long before she found much success as a glass singer.

Zarek’s desert ranger instructor was pleasantly surprised when he managed to get Zarek to use a set of sharp blades better than his sharp tongue. That was quite a feat, considering the severity of a verbal assault he knew Zarek could manage. Zarek's sense of geography was instinctive, and his natural wit proved invaluable in keeping out of danger.

Soon, it was time to return. Alba and Zarek warmly embraced each other on the road a day’s journey from their clan’s valley. They spoke of their adventures that night around the fire and discussed their family and shared friends. Eager to see them, they started the last of their trek early the next morning.

Grinning in excitement, they crested the last hill. Slowly, Zarek’s smile faded. He held up a hand, signaling Alba to stop. “Something isn’t right. Stay behind me.” Alba continued on despite Zarek’s concerns and protests. But soon she saw it too. Or rather, she didn’t see… them.

There were the houses and the markets. There were the animals, even a horse still tethered to a cart. It whinnied as it tried to pull the half-buried cart from the sand dune. But there were no people.

The twins took off, yelling for anyone. But even with Zarek’s skill in tracking, there wasn’t a trace found. No bodies, no blood. No sign of battle. No footprints leading into the desert. Nothing. Alba sank down in the sand, mind searching for a plausible answer. Zarek laid a hand on her shoulder, out of breath and heart racing. Then Alba looked suddenly to her left.

“What is it?” Zarek questioned. Alba rose and ran quickly through the bazaar, pushing a table out of the way. “What? What is it, Alba?” He rose to run after her.

Alba leaned over and picked up a shard of crystalline stone.

“It’s magical,” Alba said, examining the strange runes on the surface. “I could suddenly feel it, even from back there. But… it feels… different. And I don’t know this symbol.” She looked up at Zarek. “What happened here?”

That question echoed within the Twinborn for eighteen long months. Then, finally, a lead on the ancient crystalline shard. A scholar—the twelfth one they’d visited—sat back and removed the magnifying lenses from his face. “I’ve only seen this symbol once, long ago. It was on a scroll that spoke of an ancient clan." He set down the artifact, a crease forming on his brow. "It claimed they had an unnatural control of desert climates, being able to call in storms and move the dunes like waves. No one knows what happened to them; they just vanished.”

“So what does the symbol mean?” Alba asked.

“I don’t know,” said the scholar. “It’s all ancient rumor. All I know for sure is they called themselves the Sirocco Clan.”

Six months later, Zarek and Alba found themselves onboard the Windscreamer. The scientific expedition of the ship was to visit the region where the scholar claimed he found the scroll. They intended to get answers. They had no need for more questions. Alba grasped Zarek's arm as they stood on deck. They watched the land they knew vanishing behind them. Thinking of the family they loved, Alba whispered a prayer into the wind.