You’d been a boy then on the cusp of manhood, and I already your senior by many centuries. The ritual was simple but barbaric, the meaning unclear.
“I do not see how mingling our blood will change things, mellon-nin.”
“I said forget it.”
Many long roads we have walked together since. You never again spoke of that moment though I know it burned your heart for many days. Your silence grieved me. I never meant to hurt you.
But now, as your warrior’s blood slips between my fingers and touches my heart, I finally understand.