Chapter 5: Old Blood

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Something was up. Porom could tell just by looking at the back of her brother’s head. He almost seemed to glow.

“What are you up to?” she asked suspiciously.

“What do you mean? Why would I be up to something?” he replied sweetly.

It was one of the worst lies he had ever told. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he grinned back; he wasn’t going to explain himself yet. She slid into a vacant chair across the table from him, swishing her green robe out of her way.

“Why are you wearing your workout clothes?” Palom asked, not quite so mischievous anymore.

“I’m meeting Hitoshi and some of the other guards in the training yard later,” she answered. “Are we early for breakfast?”

“I guess so. Nothing’s been served yet, and their majesties haven’t gotten up yet.”

“Ikigai and Yuki aren’t up either?”

Palom shrugged. He didn’t seem to know what was going on.

While they waited for everyone else, they sat at the table and chatted about all sorts of things. Work, the weather—here and at home—what they were going to do about Annin and her gift for sight, and eventually the long-put-off topic of how they would deal with Ferron when they returned.

“He’ll be mad about what happened on the dock,” Porom reminded gently. “What do you think he’s going to do?”

Palom snorted petulantly. “If he so much as looks at Lisa funny, I’m going to kill him...”

“Pull your head out of the clouds and be practical,” Porom scolded. “We’ve got to think about doing something permanent to him. If we immobilize him somehow, he won’t be able to bother us or anyone else again. Like if he broke his spine and became wheelchair-bound or something.”

“Huh? I know that you’re all about getting him off our tails as much as I am, but isn’t that kind of plotting a little dark for you?”

“I’m just being practical.”

“No, that was creepy.”

“But practical.”

“What is it with you and being practical lately??”

A few minutes later the door opened again and the whole royal family walked in. Yuki skipped over to a chair next to Porom and Ikigai walked coolly to the chair beside Palom.

“Good morning!” Yuki said cheerily. “Sleep well?”

It was great that she was feeling so chipper, but her parents looked tired.

“Is something wrong?” Porom asked them.

“Long night,” Edge answered. “Too much paperwork left over from the meeting yesterday. I wonder if the other leaders were up as late reading and signing things as we were...?”

“Sorry to hear that.”

As if one queue, the head chef and all his helpers suddenly appeared bearing plates of food and a big bowl of hot rice porridge. Someone left a large teapot near Edge’s elbow along with two small espresso cups.

“We understood from the guards that your majesties were up rather late last night,” the head chef explained. “We thought you might like something a little stronger than plain tea this morning.”

Leaving the rest for them to figure out on their own, the chef herded all his minions back out the service door that they had come from.

The twins decided together—in their telepathy-free-telepathy speak—that they would discuss the meeting later.

I’ve got an announcement to make! Palom declared silently.

Is that what you’ve been acting so weird about? Porom asked. Palom answered with a smug grin.

I think I’ll make it now. This ought to cheer Edge and Rydia up. This might make you feel better too, sis.

I feel fine. What are talking about?

You’ve seemed kinda sad lately.

I’m not.

Whatever.

“Hey, guess what happened to me this morning?” he said out loud for everyone to hear. “I woke up and this little piece of paper was on my nightstand.” He reached into his back pants pocket and pulled out a sheet of notebook paper, folded over with his name scrawled hurriedly across the front.

“It’s from Lisa,” he added smugly. Edge suddenly animated.

“What did she say? Did she like your surprise?” he asked excitedly.

He looks like a child at a carnival. What have they been up to? Porom wondered.

“Apparently, she did,” Palom answered. “She said yes!”

“Really? Wow! That’s great! Way to go, kid,” Edge cheered, reaching over the table and giving Palom’s arm a friendly punch.

“What is all this?” Rydia asked, very interested. “What did you—“

“I sent Lisa back with an engagement ring and a note asking if she would marry me,” Palom answered. “She said yes! Can you believe it!”

“Oh, you!” Rydia exclaimed, giving him a congratulatory hug. “That’s hardly the way to propose to a girl, but I’m so glad for you!”

“Hey, Porom, what’s that mean?” Yuki asked, tugging on Porom’s sleeve.

Porom didn’t answer; she didn’t hear. Amidst everyone’s excited chatter and confused questions, she stared silently at her twin with a look of lank horror.

...Why didn’t he tell me?? What’s the matter with him?!

“Hey, Porom!”

She blinked several times, startled from her reverie by her brother’s voice.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding concerned despite his own happy circumstances.

“Nothing,” Porom insisted, masking her true feeling with as sincere a smile as she could muster. “That’s great! I can’t wait to get home and see Lisa again!”

“Why are you so upset?” Palom asked.

“...Why would I be upset?” she replied, as if her twin had asked her the dumbest question in the world.

Why am I upset? My brother and best friend are getting married. This is a good thing... Isn’t it?

Something deep inside forced her stomach to lurch to one side and she suddenly felt like she was going to throw up. She wondered for a split second if—for whatever reason—she was jealous.

I’m not jealous, she assured herself. I’m just a little shocked. Yeah, that’s it...

She didn’t want to be here anymore. She got up and headed for the door.

“Where are you going, sis?” Palom called after her. “You’ve barely eaten anything; if you start training now, you’ll faint.”

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “I just feel like I should get a head-start today.”

“It’s your vacation, Porom; let loose, why don’t you,” Edge suggested.

“Can’t. If I let up my training for a second, I’m going to go slack. Got to keep up with my routine.”

“You’ll work yourself to death,” Rydia cautioned.

“I must continue with my training. I have to get stronger,” Porom insisted.

“Whatever for? You’re one of the strongest women of your age in the whole world,” Edge pointed out.

Porom hesitated. “I… I’m not sure yet. All I know is that I must keep working.”

Which wasn’t entirely a lie. Something deep inside her kept her training like a maniac, and she didn’t know why. She didn’t really care: getting stronger was always a good thing; and now it afforded her an excuse to get out of the room. Before anyone could try to stop her again, she ran out the door. To her surprise, she found a tear dripping down her cheek.

...I’m not jealous, she thought, stopping to wipe the tear away before anyone knew that she was crying. I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous?

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“Annin! Wake up!”

Annin bolted upright from her sudden fatigue, startled to find that she had actually been dreaming again. She was still holding her pen to the paper she had been writing on, and the ink had left a big blotchy stain.

“I fell asleep again?” she asked, relieved to see Sheila, the pink-haired white mage hovering above her.

“Yes,” Sheila answered. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” Annin answered, rubbing her brown eyes groggily. “That’s been happening a lot lately...”

“You never sleep for very long; only about five minutes before someone wakes you up,” Sheila informed. “Do you always dream?”

“Usually. I keep dreaming about Palom and Porom for some reason. It really bugs me.”

“How come?”

“Because Porom’s always mad in my dreams.”

Sheila blinked twice, surprised. “...What about Palom?”

“No, he’s always okay. He seems pretty happy in my dreams; I think that’s why Porom’s always mad. I think she’s mad at him for some reason. But I don’t know why.”

“What’s he so happy about?”

Annin shrugged. “Could be anything. Palom’s always so happy about everything. Except when he’s angry—then he’s just really moody and stuff. But it seems like Porom’s always mad at him for being happy, like she wants to be happy too and she isn’t but he is and she’s jealous.”

“That doesn’t sound like Porom,” Sheila muttered, sounding concerned.

“I’m a little scared,” Annin added.

“Why?”

“Because all my visions about them always come true,” she answered flatly.

A heavy silence passed as they let the facts sink in. Finally, Annin snorted, frustrated.

“It’s not easy being a prophet,” Annin sighed. “I wish that I could be normal, like my brother and sister.”

“They’re hardly normal,” Sheila pointed out.

“At least they don’t have visions of people dying and getting hurt all the time. No one ever tried to experiment on them. I hate being a prophet. Why did it have to be me?” she demanded.

“Who can fathom the powers that be? You’ve been given an extraordinary gift, greater even than your brother and sister’s talent with magic. There must be a reason,” Sheila explained.

“That’s what everyone says about everything,” Annin complained. “It’s not an answer. It just means ‘I don’t know’ or ‘You’re too young to understand’.”

“Maybe I don’t know, and maybe you can’t understand it because you’re still a child,” Sheila suggested.

“Sheila, I’m really worried about them,” Annin said placidly, hoping that Sheila could do something to interfere with her troublesome visions. “I don’t want Porom to be mad, but I don’t think there’s anything we can do stop her. It’s so hard to stop Porom form doing things when she gets started.”

“Started with what?”

“Anything, really. If she decides to be sad about something or angry about something, she won’t change her mind. If she decides to hate our brother, she’s going to keep hating him forever. Maybe she won’t talk to him ever again. Maybe she’ll do something stupid and get in trouble. Maybe she’ll move away and never come back, like Tellah. Maybe—“

“For starters, Tellah did do something stupid and got banished for it; he didn’t move away on his own. Second, you’re pontificating. Don’t worry so much; I’m sure that Porom will be fine,” Sheila soothed.

Annin stared sadly at the open page of her textbook—a chapter on the Cura spell—and sighed again. Because of her gift for sight always disrupting her, she wasn’t as good with magic as members of her family were traditionally supposed to be. She felt inferior and left out, unable to do much but freak people out.

“I want to be able to do something useful, Sheila. What wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” the white mage insisted. “You just haven’t reached your destiny. Your brother and sister fought in a war when they were younger than you, and they aren’t done living yet.”

“Lucky them.”

“No, not lucky them. You probably wouldn’t call being petrified for six months lucky or fun.”

Annin didn’t really care.

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Halfway across town, Mira was helping Lisa make a few small alterations to the white dress.

“Oh, Lisa, what is it about you and lace?” Mira asked wistfully as she stitched the new hem. “It suits you so.”

“Thank you,” Lisa grinned, watching her mother-in-law-to-be in the mirror. “I just love looking at it; not even on me but on a hanger, on a dummy, on someone else—anywhere, as long as I can see it.”

“That crazy ninja probably had something to do with this,” Mira said ruefully. “He’s so good at romantic surprises.”

“Feh; Palom doesn’t need help, so far as I’m concerned. He can win me over just by smiling.”

“Or by pulling a childish prank on one of your sisters.”

“Well... Yes.”

“He’s a bit too creative in that department,” Mira admitted.

“Do you think so? It makes me laugh.”

Mira shook her head sadly. “It just saddened me to see kind, respectable, sensible Peter Bron—your dear father—marry Alessandra Hamilton. No offense to your mother, but I could never stand her; she was cold, calculating and pretentious when we were girls. I almost wished that I could marry your father instead and spare him from such a horrible fate.”

Lisa wasn’t really offended at all, nor was she surprised. “So she’s been like this all her life?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Hence we have Elaine and Terra,” Lisa sighed.

“Speaking of which, what did they say this morning?”

“Oh, well, my mother’s still throwing a tantrum; says she’ll never speak to me again and hopes that daddy disowns me. Terra had nothing nicer to say to me, and Meghan’s trying desperately to be helpful. Daddy’s elated though.”

“Ah, he would be. He deserves at least one of his daughters to have as straight a head as his. In my humble opinion as a working-class red mage, you have impeccable taste in men.”

“I like to think so too.”

Mira took a small penknife and cut the remaining length of thread from the hem. “How’s that?”

Lisa swished the skirt around her legs. It fit closely against her hips and thighs, but flared out right above her knees to the floor in a graceful cascade of satin and lace. The hem had been just a little low, though; Lisa had kept tripping over it, even in heels. Thanks to Mira’s skilled hands, it came to a more manageable length.

“Much better,” she agreed, running her hands over the lace mesh. “It fits so well. I’d love to know how he pulled this off. Everything he pulls off is perfect; I don’t know how he does it.”

“He’s one of those rare souls who half-blunders through life, trusting that things will be alright, and they are,” Mira answered, putting away her sewing equipment.

“Palom is special indeed. And he wants me to marry him,” Lisa agreed, still fixated on the mirror.

“Don’t let him go wild, though,” Mira cautioned. “He’s starting a family now. He’s got to pull his head out of the clouds and try thinking rationally once in a while now. Especially when you have children. Jackie and I couldn’t afford to have children for years because our whole situation was, shall we say, financially unstable. And then, as soon as we were ready to have children and the twins were on the way, he vanished. And I couldn’t work. Our steady situation turned upside down faster than we could blink. For a period of time—which I’m thankful that they can’t remember—the three of us were on the welfare list. I did a lot of crying that year...

“And then Baron attacked us and stole the crystal and, surprisingly, our family was one of the few that was least affected—immediately, anyway,” she concluded, shutting her things into a drawer. “And, well, we all know how that turned out.”

“With the friends you have in such high places, surely they could do something to raise your level of influence in this city,” Lisa insisted.

“No,” Mira answered quickly. “You know how prideful we are; we couldn’t accept donations from them, even if they could afford it. You’ve seen how bad Edge and Rydia have it in Eblan, after all. It’s not much better everywhere else.”

Lisa sighed sadly. It was all so humbling. When Palom and Porom had been chosen to take Cecil the murderer—now Cecil the king of Baron—up Mount Ordeals, it saved their family from poverty and obscurity. It had brought their long-lost father back home, and tied them to people who—though perhaps obscure themselves at the time—now ran the most important kingdoms in the world.

Unlike the high-class snobs that she had to rely on, the twins and their whole family had a reliable security net: places to go in times of need, shoulders to cry on if they needed comfort and, practically speaking, a pride-scaring source of rent if push came to shove. Lisa didn’t have that in the people around her: they were only interested if it benefited them somehow in the form of money and things.

“You know, to spare her the constant bombardment of doctors and specialists, we’re considering leaving her in Baron this September—Annin, I mean. It was Porom’s idea, you know. She’d be safe, cared for, protected from those vultures. I’ve had a letter-commentary going on the matter with Queen Rosa for a few weeks now; she says it’s no problem, if Annin is willing. I still need to talk to Annin about it, though; I’m not sure how to broach it to her.”

“I thought I might go see her and bring her lunch,” Lisa remarked, forcing herself to undo the back buttons and slipping delicately out of her wedding gown. “Do you think they would mind?”

“I don’t think so,” Mira answered, handing Lisa her yellow day dress. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you.”

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The front door shut loudly and Annin peeked around the corner to see who it was. To her pleasure, it was Lisa, carrying a small picnic basket.

“Hi, Lisa!” she yelled, waving to her. “Did mom fix your dress already? Is it really pretty?”

“She did,” Lisa agreed, walking over to Annin’s worktable. “I thought you might be hungry, so I brought you a snack from the bakery.” She set the picnic basket down on the table and sat down on the bench beside her.

“We haven’t gotten a chance to talk since way before I left. How’s your studying going?”

“Slowly,” Annin answered, finding it hard to be cynical with Lisa. She was too happy and bright to be sour around. “I’ve been falling asleep lately.”

“Not sleeping well?” Lisa asked, concerned.

“I have really weird visions in my sleep.”

“What about?”

Annin realized that she had just painted herself into a hole. She didn’t want to tell Lisa about her brother and sister; it would ruin her whole summer worrying about them. She decided to play one of her most pride-splitting cards.

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

Now she’s going to feel sorry for me, she thought.

Instead of fawning comfortingly over her—like most everyone else—Lisa reached into the basket and pulled out a golden muffin studded with blueberries. It was still warm from the oven.

“Go ahead,” Lisa insisted, handing Annin the muffin. “I think you need it.”

Annin accepted the treat and crammed it into her mouth; her mouth was so full that she could hardly chew, but that was half the fun.

“What’s this book? It doesn’t look like a magic textbook?” Lisa asked.

Annin swallowed hard and answered, “It’s our holy book; I’m working on a theology lesson. Uncle says that it might help with my visions. Lisa, do you feel sorry for me?”

“That is an extraordinary question,” Lisa replied. “I don’t so much feel sorry for you as I feel sad for you. You’re always so depressed, Annin. I wish that you were happier; it makes me a little sad myself.”

“So, it’s not like you feel all, ‘Poor little Annin and her weird curse’ or anything?”

“You can see the future; that’s amazing. There are people all around the world who would kill for that ability. And besides, it’s not a curse, it’s a gift—it only be a curse so long as you let the downside of your sight bum you out. Do you mind if I look in the book for a minute?”

“Sure,” Annin agreed, biting into her muffin again. She felt relieved about what Lisa had just said. It was a form of pity, but it was a welcome form of pity that wasn’t going to further bruise her pride. She was glad that Lisa was going to be her big sister-in-law; she was like a sister already anyway.

“Oh! This is interesting,” Lisa mumbled, following a large chink of script hungrily down the page.

“What is?” Annin asked.

“This story about a man named Sarid,” Lisa answered. “I had never heard this story before.”

“That’s the thing that Uncle wanted me to read today. I don’t really get it though; it’s kinda boring. I’d rather read a normal story book.”

“Want me to read it? Maybe you’ll understand it better if your hear it,” Lisa offered.

“Sure.”

In the days of the Wicked Elders—

“That era was about 1000 years ago,” Lisa pointed out. “It lasted about 500 years; the Wicked Elders, as they are called, were some of the predecessors of the Steele family.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. They have the genealogy papers to prove it.”

In the days of the Wicked Elders, there came a nameless stranger to the shores of Mysidia. He carried nothing with him but the clothes on his back. He knew not where he had come from or what his name was.

Many of the citizens wanted to send him on hi way, not wanting anything to do with him. But one family chose to give him shelter, even though they could barely feed themselves. They prayed to God:

“Take care of us, oh Mighty One. Give us a way to care for this stranger in his time of need. While others who have ten times more have sent him away, we—who have nothing—seek a way to protect him. Provide us the means to shelter him.”

That night, God came to him in a vision, saying:

“Do you know who you are?”

“I do not,” answered he.

“You are Sarid, the survivor. Do you know who I am?”

“You are the great God of these people.”

“Will you obey my commands?”

“I will.”

“This is all too easy,” Annin complained. “God hasn’t even come to me; and if he did, I’d be pretty scared. This Sarid guy is acting like it’s no big deal. It’s not right.”

“The Holy Book can be trite sometimes. This stuff happened 1000 years ago, and there’s a lot of other stuff that needs to be included; if we included the whole story of everything that ever happened, we’d end up with an encyclopedia like the one that your Uncle has.”

“The 50-volume one that needs it’s own bookcase?”

“Yes, that one.”

Annin didn’t totally buy it. Maybe you have to infer what’s really happening by what little information they have time to give us, she decided.

“Please continue.”

“Take up the magic of these people. Study hard, and become a great sage.”

“How can I do this, when I am a simple stranger who they will not speak to?”

“Trust in me, and you will do anything that I ask of you.”

And so Sarid, the survivor, began his study of magic. He became a wise and highly respected sage of Mysidia, and many people from many different lands came to seek his counsel. But never did he forget to trust in God, or the night that he visited him.

Many years passed, and God came to Sarid again.

“I have a task for you, for you have grown strong in your magic.”

“Ask, my God, and I will do as you say,” Sarid answered.

“Behold, the Elder, full of his wickedness and lies, is on his deathbed. The Trial to decide the next Elder of the city is to begin soon. The strongest of all the mages chosen is the Elder’s own nephew, wicked and deceitful as his uncle. Enter the Trial and become the Elder, preventing the wicked nephew of the dying Elder form further hurting the city,” he commanded.

Sarid was afraid, but he answered, “My God, if you go with me I will do anything.”

God was pleased with Sarid and said to him, “You have been faithful and trusting in me, even in the face of great fear. You will pass the trial, verily. Your name shall be Faraxhae, the Faithful and Courageous in the High One, by the old language.”

Annin and Lisa both gasped in shock and delight with what had been read.

“Wow! They never teach you about this in school,” Lisa said in awe, transfixed on the page.

“We’re actually I the Holy Book! That’s so cool!” Annin cheered. “What happened to Sarid next?”

Lisa skimmed down the page. “Next we have a list of all the people that he challenged and how each one was thrown down, expelled from the Trial, Sarid advanced, so did the wicked Elder’s wicked nephew, they engaged in magical combat, Sarid—of course, won and became the new Elder.”

“And then??”

Then God spoke again, calling Sarid by his name, saying, “Sarid Faraxhae, strong of faith and courageous in great fear, you shall be blessed through the generations. Your children shall be gifted with great power, and their children shall be gifted with great power as well. All the children of your line will be faithful, courageous and strong as you. Your family shall rule this city in grace and in my name for all time.”

Sarid spoke, asking, “How will this be? For I am the Elder and have neither a wife nor children.”

“This is my blessing to you, and to the kind and faithful family who has protected you all these years. Their own faith and courage has redeemed them from their poverty. Always will they be remembered through the lineages of this city.”

“And that’s pretty much the end of it,” Lisa concluded. “The next few paragraphs are genealogy tables.”

“The Holy Book’s big on long lists of people that we’ll never talk about again,” Annin agreed. “So, am I descended from Sarid or from the family who looked after him?”

“The family who looked after him—he was the Elder, and wasn’t allowed to have a wife or children,” she corrected. “Hm... ‘The Faithful and Courageous in the High One’,” she repeated. “That’s what the name Faraxhae means. I really like it. I can’t wait to tell everyone else.”

Annin really liked it too. It made her feel warm and secure, despite her odd gift. God had blessed her family long ago and—though it didn’t seem like it—probably still was. So long as she was faithful that he would keep her safe and courageous in the face of her bothersome visions, she would be perfectly fine.

I wonder if there were any other prophets in our line?

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Author’s Notes...

I looked up the name Sarid on a name website: it is, in fact, Hebrew for survivor. (Of course, Faraxhae is a made-up name.) I told you before that the Mysidians are kind of Jewish.

I tried hard to make it sound like it was actually out of the Christian bible. You know, how it’s so trite and straightforward but you know that when God’s voice appeared to someone that poor confused person was all, “What does the Lord require of his servant” after they stopped hyperventilating. (Admit it: if God suddenly appeared in your head, you’d either think you were going nuts or you’d start freaking out. I’d start freaking out, personally.”

So, you see, the rivalry-thing between the Steele’s and our beloved Faraxhaes goes back to biblical times.

In the next chapter...

We’re skipping over a few months, because nothing happens. Summer’s over now, and everyone’s getting ready to head to their yearly conference in Baron!

“Dad! Dad”

Cecil nearly fell out of his chair from surprise. He hated it when his son decided to do things like that.

“What is it, Derrick? I’m doing something!”

“Dad, guess what?” Derrick insisted, unfazed by how peeved his father was.

“...What?” Cecil asked after a pause.

“The conference is in a week!” Derrick answered. “I looked at the calendar: it’s a week from September 15 today.”

“I know, Derrick; everyone knows that.”

“...Oh...”

It’s Annin’s first trip out of Mysidia, and she’s not going home with her brother and sister. Can she make some new friends?

Annin was glad that the others were having fun, but didn’t know what to do with herself. She saw a bunch of children, all about her age, playing in the middle of the room and wanted to join them, but she didn’t know if she should.

Those are the children of all the world leaders here; they’re all princes and princess, she thought, watching them chatting and playing together. They looked like old friends, the way they interacted. She didn’t want to interrupt them and end p looking silly.

She thought she had been paying attention, but one of them—a boy, only a year or so older than her—had suck up on her. His silvery hair was cut short, and it stuck out all over the place like he hadn’t brushed his hair. He regarded her with intense gray eyes and a severe look.

“Why aren’t you playing with us?” he asked.

“I don’t want to bother you,” Annin insisted. “I’m not a princess or anything.”

His eyes lit up suddenly, like ice had melted off them. “Hey, are you Annin Faraxhae?’

“Yes,” she answered.

“You’re Palom and Porom’s sister!” he realized. He took her by the hand and tried to drag her to the others. “Come on! You’ve got to meet everyone,” he insisted.

“I’d rather not.”

He narrowed his eyes determinedly. “I am Prince Ikigai of Eblan, and I command you to come have fun with us right now.”

It pulled her painfully out of comfort zone, but Annin wasn’t going to argue with a prince.

“...Okay.”

So, Porom thinks she can hide her feelings, does she? Not from everyone...

“She’s not well. Anyone can see that.”

“We’ve noticed too, mom,” Rosa agreed. “But she won’t say anything about what’s bothering her.”

“What do you think could be the problem?” Georgette asked her daughter.

“I’m not sure, but I’ll bet that it has something to do with her brother’s engagement.”

Georgette sighed sadly. “Palom and Porom: one is a black mage, the other is a white mage. Together, they make, as they say, ‘the perfect red mage’. They’re like two halves of a single person.”

“They are twins, after all,” Rosa added.

“Porom is confused,” Georgette diagnosed. “For so long, she’s been half of a person and her brother was the other half. Now he’s got to learn to be half of an entirely new person with his bride-to-be. As for Porom, she’ll have to become a whole person by herself. It’s going to be painful for both of them.”

Stay tuned! Faraxhae Family Values will return after this short break!

Brought to you in part by…

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