Aether is in everything. The rocks, the air, people, plants... Natural disasters can throw everything into flux, just as much as people using magic or technology irresponsibly. Sometimes the real reason isn't quite so simple, though. The world full of light and the one full of shadow were both caused by bad people making bad decisions.

[He isn't expecting Raha to grab his hands. Were it anyone else he'd yank them back, but Raha has long since become one of the few people he trusts enough to touch him without warning. He can guess what that look means, even if there are no words; he can feel his face heating up, pinkening all the way to the tips of his ears.]

I-it's not what it looks like. [A pause.] Well, it is, kind of, but I can explain—

[He takes a deep breath. After a moment, he pulls his right hand back (gently) so that he can adjust his unbuttoned vest, deftly undoing the buttons on the cotton shirt with just one hand so that Raha can see the curved lines tattooed over his heart in the shape of a sun.]

When I was fifteen, a Garlean soldier on leave and I got into it. He stabbed me just above my heart. A fraction of an ilm and I would've died then. So I got a tattoo like the sun, because every time I fall I rise again eventually. [He tugs his left sleeve up a little and traces his fingers over some more vein-like tribal stripes criss-crossing over the top of his arm.] Claw wounds, from my first fight against a tiger. [Next he points out a circular scar on his hip.] Gored by a gaja here. Shot here, and here... [Another more obvious sun tattoo on his other hip.]

At first I thought I could hide what I've been through, but after a while I decided to celebrate it. There's no shame in having your story written where people can see. And, honestly, people usually judge me before I even open my mouth—so I don't really care what they think about it all.

[He squeezes Raha's hands and smiles.]

The scars don't hurt anymore, so it's nothing to worry about.