Emalia Stone at 15.
Showing posts with label Emalia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Emalia. Show all posts
Chasing Rainbows
Sanria woke to a cool side of the bed, slightly indented, a small note atop Gilean's pillow: "Didn't want to disturb you, took the kids to the temple, enjoy some alone time." She rose and wrapped herself in a housecoat. Even Kaliadra was nowhere to be found.
After standing a long time staring at Nioma's small bed, Sanria wandered to the back of the cottage. She then passed time staring between the grave of her long dead daughter, Emalia, and the fresh mound of earth under which lay the father of her unborn. She stared again for long moments, her mind threatening to knock her to her knees, then spit on the grave. It did nothing to alleviate the sick feeling inside knowing that Velentham would forever be right outside her door.
She went back inside and dressed, appearing at the castle. Things here were exactly as they had always been. It seemed no one knew of her absence, save Enmach, who delightedly hugged her and congratulated her for being back. "Are you certain you should be here already?" Enmach asked with a concerned look. "You only just returned. It may be best if you return home." Sanria could tell by the tone of her voice it wasn't truly a question.
By herself in the cottage, looking into a fire, Sanria felt the tears welling up in her eyes. 'Pregnancy hormones,' she thought, but knew it was more than that. She, for the first time, was able to sit and dwell on what had been done to her. There were no distractions from her own mind and its recollections.
Before she had the chance to shed a tear, however, the sounds of music reached Sanria's ears. She held her breath as the sounds of voices were heard, harmonizing a refrain:
"I doth not want to live without thine love,
I doth not want to face the night alone,
I couldest not make it through mine life,
If I must hath make it on mine own..."
After standing a long time staring at Nioma's small bed, Sanria wandered to the back of the cottage. She then passed time staring between the grave of her long dead daughter, Emalia, and the fresh mound of earth under which lay the father of her unborn. She stared again for long moments, her mind threatening to knock her to her knees, then spit on the grave. It did nothing to alleviate the sick feeling inside knowing that Velentham would forever be right outside her door.
She went back inside and dressed, appearing at the castle. Things here were exactly as they had always been. It seemed no one knew of her absence, save Enmach, who delightedly hugged her and congratulated her for being back. "Are you certain you should be here already?" Enmach asked with a concerned look. "You only just returned. It may be best if you return home." Sanria could tell by the tone of her voice it wasn't truly a question.
By herself in the cottage, looking into a fire, Sanria felt the tears welling up in her eyes. 'Pregnancy hormones,' she thought, but knew it was more than that. She, for the first time, was able to sit and dwell on what had been done to her. There were no distractions from her own mind and its recollections.
Before she had the chance to shed a tear, however, the sounds of music reached Sanria's ears. She held her breath as the sounds of voices were heard, harmonizing a refrain:
"I doth not want to live without thine love,
I doth not want to face the night alone,
I couldest not make it through mine life,
If I must hath make it on mine own..."
Current Character Description - Emalia Stone
REST IN PEACE
Emalia Stone
Killed when defending the death of her child.
Emalia Stone
Killed when defending the death of her child.
Mrs. Gilean Eosos!
Sanria slid from the bed, leaving Gilean's side, her husband's side. She had gone against all advice from her advisor, and though the idea made her nervous, married Gilean. She was now living in the cottage she had bought for Emalia long ago, had given to Claire, who had given it to Gilean. She walked down the hallway to Matinus' room and looked in on the boy. His arms and legs were sprawled akimbo, and she took a moment to move him into a better sleeping position, tucking him in before going downstairs.
A mere few hours previous, she was Sanria Stone. Now, she was Sanria Eosos. The name felt strange on her tongue. She felt even more strange given the day before Mirin had become a Mrs. Stone. "Sanria Eosos," she whispered, and the condensation from her breath fogged the window. Her fear had driven her here. Not that she wasn't happy. She was just finding it a little hard to breathe.
They were married beneath the sliver of a waxing moon, beneath the glow of a million stars, right there in the Druid's Grove. Her third marriage, Gilean's second. The Elder Druid seemed pleased with her choice, and had some foreknowledge that caused him to smile when he pronounced to the assembled trees and owls that they were wed. Mr. and Mrs. Gilean Eosos. When had such a thing happened and could it possibly have been any faster?
"Sanria Eosos," she exhaled again. She had anticipated any name save that one. The force of the reality broadsided her completely. A new beginning with an old friend. The marriage was quiet, private, and she had no plans on telling anyone anytime soon. She climbed the stairs and Sanria Eosos slid into bed with her husband.
A mere few hours previous, she was Sanria Stone. Now, she was Sanria Eosos. The name felt strange on her tongue. She felt even more strange given the day before Mirin had become a Mrs. Stone. "Sanria Eosos," she whispered, and the condensation from her breath fogged the window. Her fear had driven her here. Not that she wasn't happy. She was just finding it a little hard to breathe.
They were married beneath the sliver of a waxing moon, beneath the glow of a million stars, right there in the Druid's Grove. Her third marriage, Gilean's second. The Elder Druid seemed pleased with her choice, and had some foreknowledge that caused him to smile when he pronounced to the assembled trees and owls that they were wed. Mr. and Mrs. Gilean Eosos. When had such a thing happened and could it possibly have been any faster?
"Sanria Eosos," she exhaled again. She had anticipated any name save that one. The force of the reality broadsided her completely. A new beginning with an old friend. The marriage was quiet, private, and she had no plans on telling anyone anytime soon. She climbed the stairs and Sanria Eosos slid into bed with her husband.
Pressing Matters
Sanria sat in her office, staring out over the castle grounds to the north from the large window. From there she could see Star Mountain and the various trails that wound up its side and through it. Beyond was the ice cream parlor where, the day before, she had met with Orn and Ror. The moment when her only concerns were wishing Orn liked Ror better than he did. Now, in the span of a day, things had gone from relatively under control, to outright insane. But, what was new?
She had gone back to the cavern, slinking into the place in what she hoped was silence, but Thasmudyan had found her. They sat and talked for quite a while, and she was informed that having Ror help raise Nioma while Thasmudyan was there made him quite upset. He wanted a chance to be in Nioma's life... and hers. They spent time arguing, discussing, and...
And things that sent her packing to the castle in haste. Things that sent her to visit with Colin. She spent the evening talking to him, discussing the past and Emalia, their children, Orn and Leandra, the fact that Colin was going to be a grandfather and already was one. They spent time reminiscing and discussing, and...
And when Orn walked in to deliver his father a plate full of food in the morning and saw his mother and father together, Sanria had a hell of a time telling him it meant nothing. But she knew, then, as did Orn, that she could no longer be with Ror. She could barely stand her own self, her own weaknesses, but there was nothing more to be said. She had guaranteed herself a life alone.
She rose from her desk and had Enmach bring Nioma to her. She would ensure that there were no accidents. She would stop by the temple of Lathander and meet with Gilean. No more children. Then... she would stop by the tree and talk to Ror. She would have to end things... she couldn't drag another man through what she had already done to three others. At least she'd stop things before they went any further.
Sanria appeared at the temple and walked in to see not only Gilean, but another priest with a small girl at the hem of his robes. It was here that she and her daughter stumbled across the other side of her conversation with Thasmudyan. In front of her was Maya's daughter and Nioma's half-sister, Lyvinnia. Things had suddenly become far, far more complex.
She had gone back to the cavern, slinking into the place in what she hoped was silence, but Thasmudyan had found her. They sat and talked for quite a while, and she was informed that having Ror help raise Nioma while Thasmudyan was there made him quite upset. He wanted a chance to be in Nioma's life... and hers. They spent time arguing, discussing, and...
And things that sent her packing to the castle in haste. Things that sent her to visit with Colin. She spent the evening talking to him, discussing the past and Emalia, their children, Orn and Leandra, the fact that Colin was going to be a grandfather and already was one. They spent time reminiscing and discussing, and...
And when Orn walked in to deliver his father a plate full of food in the morning and saw his mother and father together, Sanria had a hell of a time telling him it meant nothing. But she knew, then, as did Orn, that she could no longer be with Ror. She could barely stand her own self, her own weaknesses, but there was nothing more to be said. She had guaranteed herself a life alone.
She rose from her desk and had Enmach bring Nioma to her. She would ensure that there were no accidents. She would stop by the temple of Lathander and meet with Gilean. No more children. Then... she would stop by the tree and talk to Ror. She would have to end things... she couldn't drag another man through what she had already done to three others. At least she'd stop things before they went any further.
Sanria appeared at the temple and walked in to see not only Gilean, but another priest with a small girl at the hem of his robes. It was here that she and her daughter stumbled across the other side of her conversation with Thasmudyan. In front of her was Maya's daughter and Nioma's half-sister, Lyvinnia. Things had suddenly become far, far more complex.
Adults Blow
Leandra called mentally for her father and waited, twiddling her thumbs and sighing. He was certainly taking his time, maybe he was just upset and didn't really want to see her - he still sounded upset by all of this. Still, she had to clarify things. As she left Maya, the woman had spoken into her mind, "Visha." She had mentioned that Visha was Brin's father, but if Visha was Brin's father, then that meant Visha was her father, too. Then Colin wasn't her dad at all, and that sent a little bit of panic into Leandra's body.
"Papa," she started once Colin had barely gotten into the room, "who is Visha?" She couldn't have anticipated the look of shock on his face.
"Visha...? Where did you hear that name?"
"I... you're my real dad, aren't you? Not Visha?"
"Of course I'm your dad. Now, Leandra, tell me, where did you hear this?"
"Promise you won't get mad at me?"
"Oh Leandra..."
So Leandra launched into the story of how she escaped the confines of the cavern and headed into Westbridge (what else was she supposed to do, actually stay here?) and her encounter with Maya. She told Colin how Maya was supposed to marry Thasmudyan and saw her father's eyes lighten a bit. "So anyways, I talked to her more about it and begged her to help me get rid of him, and she said she would. That all I had to do was tell Thasmudyan that I wanted a little time with my family before he got with Mama so he'd leave and go to Maya. Then she said she'd do the rest."
"Wait, wait... Leandra, you just met this woman and you're... plotting with her?"
"Not to kill him, she told me that she wasn't going to do that. Just to get him away from here so that you and mama can be together again. But... then she got this weird look on her face when I told her my name. She said, "Brin Stone?" and I was like yeah, and told her how gross... I mean, how you and Emalia had a baby and named her that."
"Leandra, be respectful."
"Well it is..." she muttered.
"Did she say anything about where Visha and Brin are now?" Colin asked.
"No. Nothing else. But she asked where we live and said maybe she'd come visit us."
And like magic, like, really - the doorbell rang. Ignoring her grounding, Leandra leapt up from her bed with a grin. "Maybe that's her!" And she zipped out the door.
"Leandra, wait!" Colin called after.
"Papa," she started once Colin had barely gotten into the room, "who is Visha?" She couldn't have anticipated the look of shock on his face.
"Visha...? Where did you hear that name?"
"I... you're my real dad, aren't you? Not Visha?"
"Of course I'm your dad. Now, Leandra, tell me, where did you hear this?"
"Promise you won't get mad at me?"
"Oh Leandra..."
So Leandra launched into the story of how she escaped the confines of the cavern and headed into Westbridge (what else was she supposed to do, actually stay here?) and her encounter with Maya. She told Colin how Maya was supposed to marry Thasmudyan and saw her father's eyes lighten a bit. "So anyways, I talked to her more about it and begged her to help me get rid of him, and she said she would. That all I had to do was tell Thasmudyan that I wanted a little time with my family before he got with Mama so he'd leave and go to Maya. Then she said she'd do the rest."
"Wait, wait... Leandra, you just met this woman and you're... plotting with her?"
"Not to kill him, she told me that she wasn't going to do that. Just to get him away from here so that you and mama can be together again. But... then she got this weird look on her face when I told her my name. She said, "Brin Stone?" and I was like yeah, and told her how gross... I mean, how you and Emalia had a baby and named her that."
"Leandra, be respectful."
"Well it is..." she muttered.
"Did she say anything about where Visha and Brin are now?" Colin asked.
"No. Nothing else. But she asked where we live and said maybe she'd come visit us."
And like magic, like, really - the doorbell rang. Ignoring her grounding, Leandra leapt up from her bed with a grin. "Maybe that's her!" And she zipped out the door.
"Leandra, wait!" Colin called after.
Time
Pride. It was the single word that kept coming back to Sanria, thudding through her mind in time with her beating heart. Her son, her boy, her Orn was becoming a man. Certainly, he still had missteps - his excitement bubbling over like a child, words hastily said without thought when he was nervous, but in the setting sun of the day, she had watched her little boy negotiate with an orc in a free, clear, unabashed way. He had negotiated with the skill of a man...
Sanria had finally taken him to the castle. Taken him to meet the Rilmani and any member of the clan that would meet with him. Her heart warmed at the awe on his face - at once so young and so grown. She had been alive for so many years, years beyond her natural time, but never felt so aged as when Orn, big and gangly, jogged to the edge of the floating island with the exuberance of a lab- orador puppy. "Mirin and Reggie should see this!" Her heart tightened. Al- ready the sphere of his life was moving away from her shadow, gaining a light of its own. Though Emalia and Tarran had grown up, this was the first time she got to see it without guilt, but bent with the weight of loss.
They had entered the castle and met with Jayden and Sanria felt sorrow flitter like a bird behind the cage of her bones. Orn seemed to absorb the tenderness Jayden showed like a sponge. A fatherliness that Colin had obliterated when he had killed Arlenia. Jayden had sensed the sorrow from both of them, and Sanria knew, deep down, she had to get Colin better. She had to try to help Orn look at his own father the way he had looked at Jayden.
Sanria had taken Orn to her office when the yell interrupted their discussion, "Who in there!!!!! Let Kronk in!!!!!!!" Then, leading her son, Sanria stepped out of the castle and face to face with a hulking orc. Fear ripped through her at the sight of the sword and the armor, and her son, her boy, her Orn had stepped in front of -her-. Somehow, time had passed. Her mind swung like a pendulum - boy, man, boy, man. Then she watched with awe as Orn laid down his staff and somehow befriended the orc named Kronk. He had negotiated with the skill of a man.
Sanria had finally taken him to the castle. Taken him to meet the Rilmani and any member of the clan that would meet with him. Her heart warmed at the awe on his face - at once so young and so grown. She had been alive for so many years, years beyond her natural time, but never felt so aged as when Orn, big and gangly, jogged to the edge of the floating island with the exuberance of a lab- orador puppy. "Mirin and Reggie should see this!" Her heart tightened. Al- ready the sphere of his life was moving away from her shadow, gaining a light of its own. Though Emalia and Tarran had grown up, this was the first time she got to see it without guilt, but bent with the weight of loss.
They had entered the castle and met with Jayden and Sanria felt sorrow flitter like a bird behind the cage of her bones. Orn seemed to absorb the tenderness Jayden showed like a sponge. A fatherliness that Colin had obliterated when he had killed Arlenia. Jayden had sensed the sorrow from both of them, and Sanria knew, deep down, she had to get Colin better. She had to try to help Orn look at his own father the way he had looked at Jayden.
Sanria had taken Orn to her office when the yell interrupted their discussion, "Who in there!!!!! Let Kronk in!!!!!!!" Then, leading her son, Sanria stepped out of the castle and face to face with a hulking orc. Fear ripped through her at the sight of the sword and the armor, and her son, her boy, her Orn had stepped in front of -her-. Somehow, time had passed. Her mind swung like a pendulum - boy, man, boy, man. Then she watched with awe as Orn laid down his staff and somehow befriended the orc named Kronk. He had negotiated with the skill of a man.
Unexpected Guest
Claire at last found the energy to walk out her front door. She sat on the stoop, looking down over the ferns and grasses, lost in thought. She considered returning to Faerun - going back to her mother and marrying Ruthivan. It wasn't the life she sought for herself, but it wouldn't cause her the pain that seemed to follow her on Cruoris. There she could simply help her own kind, carry on the genetic legacy of Espers, and be at ease. Certainly, it would mean turning her back on her charges in Westbridge - giving up on aiding those that truly needed it - but anything was better than -
The sound of footsteps pulled her from her own mind and Claire looked over to see Gilean approaching. "Hello Claire. I hope I'm not disturbing you." There was nothing to disturb. Claire invited her friend inside and at his questioning, told him what had transpired. She looked down at the pack by her side and pulled out the orchids that had been given to her by Psycho. It was over. As she spoke, she removed the enchantment that kept them beautiful and fresh and tossed them into the fireplace. She hung her head as they rapidly curled and turned to ash.
The conversation quieted and so lost in her thoughts was she that Claire barely registered Gilean's voice, You know... I haven't had a chance to see this new house of yours. Do you feel up for a tour? She found the energy to rise and to show him the rooms of her house, as well as Emalia's grave in the back.
The small cottage did not take long to show. I must admit, I'm a bit jealous, Gilean said once they had finished. The accommodations at the temple aren't nearly so nice. 'If you would like you may stay here,' Claire offered. 'I have the extra room.'
Oh, no... I wouldn't want to impose...
'It would be no imposition. Besides, should I choose to go home, you might be able to purchase it for your own.'
Well, alright then. I will stop looking the gift horse in the mouth and graciously accept your offer.
Claire parted with Gilean, leaving him to move himself into the guest room, and entered the library. She sat there, surrounded by all of Emalia's old healing books, and suddenly had reality hit her. She just gained a roommate. She let out a long sigh and shook her head in spite of herself. Broken hearts were certainly not conducive to clear minds.
The sound of footsteps pulled her from her own mind and Claire looked over to see Gilean approaching. "Hello Claire. I hope I'm not disturbing you." There was nothing to disturb. Claire invited her friend inside and at his questioning, told him what had transpired. She looked down at the pack by her side and pulled out the orchids that had been given to her by Psycho. It was over. As she spoke, she removed the enchantment that kept them beautiful and fresh and tossed them into the fireplace. She hung her head as they rapidly curled and turned to ash.
The conversation quieted and so lost in her thoughts was she that Claire barely registered Gilean's voice, You know... I haven't had a chance to see this new house of yours. Do you feel up for a tour? She found the energy to rise and to show him the rooms of her house, as well as Emalia's grave in the back.
The small cottage did not take long to show. I must admit, I'm a bit jealous, Gilean said once they had finished. The accommodations at the temple aren't nearly so nice. 'If you would like you may stay here,' Claire offered. 'I have the extra room.'
Oh, no... I wouldn't want to impose...
'It would be no imposition. Besides, should I choose to go home, you might be able to purchase it for your own.'
Well, alright then. I will stop looking the gift horse in the mouth and graciously accept your offer.
Claire parted with Gilean, leaving him to move himself into the guest room, and entered the library. She sat there, surrounded by all of Emalia's old healing books, and suddenly had reality hit her. She just gained a roommate. She let out a long sigh and shook her head in spite of herself. Broken hearts were certainly not conducive to clear minds.
Misplaced Apologies
Claire heard the knock at the door and rose from reading her book. She turned down the corner of the page, dogearing it without concern and laid it on the table. It didn't shock her that Gilean was her visitor. She had not informed anyone else of her recent home acquisition. The Stones had placed the property up for purchase, though part of the agreement was not to disturb the previous owner's grave in the back garden. Emalia could rest there as long as she needed. Claire had no qualms.
She opened the door, admitting Gilean to the cozy living room. "I wanted to talk to you... about what happened," he began. "You aren't happy with me."
'No. I am not. But that happens in life.'
Well, it means a lot to me that you aren't. I care about your opinion of me.
'I don't have much of an opinion of you, Gilean. I've simply decided I didn't know you very well and so I retract any thought I had of you previously.
It's hard to explain exactly what I felt. But the death pulled to me so heavily.
That frustrated Claire, but she retained her soft voice as she stared at the fireplace. 'If you are attempting to justify what you've done, it will not work. Many in the realms have their lives unjustly taken. Perhaps you'd like to go resurrect all of them as well?'
What if I could? Would that be wrong to do so? Gilean asked.
'I believe you went forward with something that had consequences that you did not even think about, Gilean. Now you have a woman who can't remember anything with a husband who must live with all of that - He can see her, touch her, talk to her, and she doesn't know him. Is that not worse than death? Is that not worse than letting him bury her and live with memories? There are consequences! Would she have been any more dead had you waited to think them through?'
No. I got... caught up, Gilean replied.
'That is what I would consider an understatement.'
She knew Gilean felt bad for what he had done. She could see remorse written on his face. It didn't make her feel superior or pleased - part of her wanted to go to him and offer a hug, but the other part was angry. If he wanted to give an apology, she was not the one to give it to. 'I would suggest,' she said, 'that if you wish to do something, you go ask them. There is nothing here that you can do.'
I will prove myself to you Claire. It's very important to me.
'You've nothing to prove or disprove, Gilean.'
Claire escorted Gilean to the door and closed it slowly behind him. She leaned her head against the door with a sigh. 'Things are as they are and will be as they will,' she repeated. She walked back to the couch and picked up her book once more. She reread the same section over and over again, not seeing the words for seeing the pain etched on Gilean's face at her disapproval.
She opened the door, admitting Gilean to the cozy living room. "I wanted to talk to you... about what happened," he began. "You aren't happy with me."
'No. I am not. But that happens in life.'
Well, it means a lot to me that you aren't. I care about your opinion of me.
'I don't have much of an opinion of you, Gilean. I've simply decided I didn't know you very well and so I retract any thought I had of you previously.
It's hard to explain exactly what I felt. But the death pulled to me so heavily.
That frustrated Claire, but she retained her soft voice as she stared at the fireplace. 'If you are attempting to justify what you've done, it will not work. Many in the realms have their lives unjustly taken. Perhaps you'd like to go resurrect all of them as well?'
What if I could? Would that be wrong to do so? Gilean asked.
'I believe you went forward with something that had consequences that you did not even think about, Gilean. Now you have a woman who can't remember anything with a husband who must live with all of that - He can see her, touch her, talk to her, and she doesn't know him. Is that not worse than death? Is that not worse than letting him bury her and live with memories? There are consequences! Would she have been any more dead had you waited to think them through?'
No. I got... caught up, Gilean replied.
'That is what I would consider an understatement.'
She knew Gilean felt bad for what he had done. She could see remorse written on his face. It didn't make her feel superior or pleased - part of her wanted to go to him and offer a hug, but the other part was angry. If he wanted to give an apology, she was not the one to give it to. 'I would suggest,' she said, 'that if you wish to do something, you go ask them. There is nothing here that you can do.'
I will prove myself to you Claire. It's very important to me.
'You've nothing to prove or disprove, Gilean.'
Claire escorted Gilean to the door and closed it slowly behind him. She leaned her head against the door with a sigh. 'Things are as they are and will be as they will,' she repeated. She walked back to the couch and picked up her book once more. She reread the same section over and over again, not seeing the words for seeing the pain etched on Gilean's face at her disapproval.
Final Words
Sanria had gone as far north as she could. Her throat raw from breathing in the freeing air. The tears on her cheeks grew icy before they had even coursed their way down her face, leaving a dried trail of saltwater. She couldn't feel her feet. She couldn't feel her hands. She couldn't feel anything but the void at the center of her chest that spread from her heart and into the entirety of her being. She stumbled and fell into the snow on her hands and knees, her palms reddening with the cold. Karen, the help's voice rang in her mind, 'I'm sorry, M'lady... we found him by the fire... he's dead.'
Sanria let out a roar of anguish and sat on her heels. She had lost Emalia. She had lost touch with Tarran. She had lost two children that never even made it to birth. She had lost her grasp on a realm that made everything okay. She had barely kept herself together. She had dared hope that the night spent by the fire with Throm was the beginning of what should have been and what finally would be. She had no idea that it would be the last time she'd see him alive.
Sanria slid from her heels and sat in the frigid snow absolutely broken. She wanted to tear out the thick feeling that curled in her chest and throw it away, but she couldn't grasp it. The pain was beyond her reckoning - as was everything else. She let out a gut wrenching howl and gripped her head in her hands. She screamed out his name, the word billowing steam from her mouth. There would be no Bastion in the skies to save her this time. There would be no rescue. There would never be.
Sanria opened her pack, barely able to see for the tears that continually welled up in her eyes. She found what she sought, and could barely grip the handle of the dagger, so numb were her fingers. She stared for a long time at the glinting metal, the steel shining white in reflection of the ground and the overcast skies. Snow began to drift down around her in thick, lazy flakes. She looked skyward and the flakes caught on her eyelashes and face, staying whole and remaining.
A flash of green eyes aglow. A long stretching memory of time in the sand, time in a garden, cups of tea. As if guided, the blade slid between Sanria's ribs and into her heart. The pain was excruciating, blinding, then - exquisite... the tea was exquisite. There was no more cold, no more pain. Sanria was sitting in front of a fire and beside her was the one being she could never attain. Throm smiled back at her, his eyes sparkling. She took his hand as her body fell into the snow. She leaned over and gave him a kiss as the blood left her body to turn the snow crimson. She whispered the words, "I love you," before the image faded and Sanria's life parted ways with Sanria's body.
Sanria let out a roar of anguish and sat on her heels. She had lost Emalia. She had lost touch with Tarran. She had lost two children that never even made it to birth. She had lost her grasp on a realm that made everything okay. She had barely kept herself together. She had dared hope that the night spent by the fire with Throm was the beginning of what should have been and what finally would be. She had no idea that it would be the last time she'd see him alive.
Sanria slid from her heels and sat in the frigid snow absolutely broken. She wanted to tear out the thick feeling that curled in her chest and throw it away, but she couldn't grasp it. The pain was beyond her reckoning - as was everything else. She let out a gut wrenching howl and gripped her head in her hands. She screamed out his name, the word billowing steam from her mouth. There would be no Bastion in the skies to save her this time. There would be no rescue. There would never be.
Sanria opened her pack, barely able to see for the tears that continually welled up in her eyes. She found what she sought, and could barely grip the handle of the dagger, so numb were her fingers. She stared for a long time at the glinting metal, the steel shining white in reflection of the ground and the overcast skies. Snow began to drift down around her in thick, lazy flakes. She looked skyward and the flakes caught on her eyelashes and face, staying whole and remaining.
A flash of green eyes aglow. A long stretching memory of time in the sand, time in a garden, cups of tea. As if guided, the blade slid between Sanria's ribs and into her heart. The pain was excruciating, blinding, then - exquisite... the tea was exquisite. There was no more cold, no more pain. Sanria was sitting in front of a fire and beside her was the one being she could never attain. Throm smiled back at her, his eyes sparkling. She took his hand as her body fell into the snow. She leaned over and gave him a kiss as the blood left her body to turn the snow crimson. She whispered the words, "I love you," before the image faded and Sanria's life parted ways with Sanria's body.
Emalia Dies
Grobnak's office looked the same as it always had - and at the approach of Emalia, Grobnak leapt up from his chair. "Emalia! You're alive!" The scent of death and decay swirled around her, but it didn't seem to bother either of them. At Grobnak's approach, Emalia inwardly recoiled - the killer of her child - how dare he approach her. All this time she thought of him as decent - not knowing that all along everyone was right about his cold, calculating nature. "What is it that you have there?"
"This... is... my baby. Look at her... isn't she beautiful?"
For a shimmering moment, Brin was alive in her arms - but the vision wavered and the ball of rot came back into view with black, bloated lips pursed for suckling. "I don't understand," Grobnak interrupted. "You lost it? You were only a few weeks along."
"Nooooo," Emalia began in a hollow whisper. "She's here... she's here now."
"I... I am sorry, Emalia."
"Hold her," Emalia commanded. She thrust the decayed child into Grobnak's arms. Upon his face gathered a tear, and it drove Emalia near insanity. A growl gathered in her throat, even as the black ichor that coursed through her rewarded her for the hate. "You did this to me. You did this to her."
"Me? No, Emalia."
"Yes. You did. You gave me that disease... the disease that KILLED my baby."
"No, Emalia. If I made people ill, there would be many more deaths. I am Chosen, yes, but I am not contagious."
"LIAR!" Emalia shoved her hands into Grobnak, thrusting him backward. "Halethiel TOLD me what you did... you sick... sick bastard! YOU infected me."
"Halethiel is centuries dead! What is it about this that you people do not understand?"
"You did this to me," Emalia began. The rage that she had quelled only a bit was washing over her - the black makou prasing her for the turn in her nature. It flowed easier now - but Emalia did not know. She advanced slowly upon Grobnak. "You killed my child... and I can't live knowing you aren't going to pay. I'm going to make you pay for this, Grobnak."
"I did nothing, Fallen! Know that I will tolerate your anger and your insolence, but you will not assault me for your lack of Faith, no matter how dear you may be to me!"
"DEAR TO YOU!" Emalia barely could understand the words once they had left her mouth, so high pitched were they. Grobnak held his ground, his black eyes looking down upon her with a mix of emotions Emalia could not, and didn't try to descern.
"Bring your wrath, then. I did not hurt this child. I have done naught but seek to reveal the Truth to you, which you refuse to see."
The words were enough to halt Emalia for only a moment - until her eyes rested upon the decayed baby that Grobnak had placed in the chair. Rage like no other she'd known flooded her and she gripped Grobnak's arm with her fingers like talons. She did only what she knew to do - she pulled upon the world around her, channeling through her body the very essence of the planet, while forcing it in a torrent into Grobnak.
Emalia could barely see from her own eyes - the pain of the black makou being mixed with what she was caused only the color white to explode over and over in her vision. A scream broke from her throat as she gripped tighter - her entire body shuddering inwardly with pain that felt as though her flesh was being flayed from her skin by hooks. Only when the body before her began to fall did she relent enough to note the connection which made her kin to Grobnak's thoughts - and he to hers. Only as the ragnarok demon's wings melted into a puddle and dripped to the floor did she realize she had been wrong. Grobnak's life flickered out like a candle blown, and Emalia fell to the ground with him.
"Oh no..." The madness that capped Emalia's face broke into pure horror. "You... were... right... Oh Gods..." Feebly, Emalia tried to ignore the pain within her, to right the wrong, to find Grobnak's life and restore it - but it was too late for him - and for herself. She had fully let herself go to slay him, and with the pain digging itself into her - the attempt to pull life - to give life - Emalia's vison began to fade.
Nothing more could be done for Grobnak, and with the loss of all that held her together inside, Emalia collapsed onto Grobnak with a shuddering breath. It was her last. The remainder of her lifeforce shot from her, a brilliant explosion. When the guards finally entered, a body of a baby was in a chair, an orc laid upon the ground in a puddle of black ooze, and atop his chest was a woman in dirty white robes. All were dead.
"This... is... my baby. Look at her... isn't she beautiful?"
For a shimmering moment, Brin was alive in her arms - but the vision wavered and the ball of rot came back into view with black, bloated lips pursed for suckling. "I don't understand," Grobnak interrupted. "You lost it? You were only a few weeks along."
"Nooooo," Emalia began in a hollow whisper. "She's here... she's here now."
"I... I am sorry, Emalia."
"Hold her," Emalia commanded. She thrust the decayed child into Grobnak's arms. Upon his face gathered a tear, and it drove Emalia near insanity. A growl gathered in her throat, even as the black ichor that coursed through her rewarded her for the hate. "You did this to me. You did this to her."
"Me? No, Emalia."
"Yes. You did. You gave me that disease... the disease that KILLED my baby."
"No, Emalia. If I made people ill, there would be many more deaths. I am Chosen, yes, but I am not contagious."
"LIAR!" Emalia shoved her hands into Grobnak, thrusting him backward. "Halethiel TOLD me what you did... you sick... sick bastard! YOU infected me."
"Halethiel is centuries dead! What is it about this that you people do not understand?"
"You did this to me," Emalia began. The rage that she had quelled only a bit was washing over her - the black makou prasing her for the turn in her nature. It flowed easier now - but Emalia did not know. She advanced slowly upon Grobnak. "You killed my child... and I can't live knowing you aren't going to pay. I'm going to make you pay for this, Grobnak."
"I did nothing, Fallen! Know that I will tolerate your anger and your insolence, but you will not assault me for your lack of Faith, no matter how dear you may be to me!"
"DEAR TO YOU!" Emalia barely could understand the words once they had left her mouth, so high pitched were they. Grobnak held his ground, his black eyes looking down upon her with a mix of emotions Emalia could not, and didn't try to descern.
"Bring your wrath, then. I did not hurt this child. I have done naught but seek to reveal the Truth to you, which you refuse to see."
The words were enough to halt Emalia for only a moment - until her eyes rested upon the decayed baby that Grobnak had placed in the chair. Rage like no other she'd known flooded her and she gripped Grobnak's arm with her fingers like talons. She did only what she knew to do - she pulled upon the world around her, channeling through her body the very essence of the planet, while forcing it in a torrent into Grobnak.
Emalia could barely see from her own eyes - the pain of the black makou being mixed with what she was caused only the color white to explode over and over in her vision. A scream broke from her throat as she gripped tighter - her entire body shuddering inwardly with pain that felt as though her flesh was being flayed from her skin by hooks. Only when the body before her began to fall did she relent enough to note the connection which made her kin to Grobnak's thoughts - and he to hers. Only as the ragnarok demon's wings melted into a puddle and dripped to the floor did she realize she had been wrong. Grobnak's life flickered out like a candle blown, and Emalia fell to the ground with him.
"Oh no..." The madness that capped Emalia's face broke into pure horror. "You... were... right... Oh Gods..." Feebly, Emalia tried to ignore the pain within her, to right the wrong, to find Grobnak's life and restore it - but it was too late for him - and for herself. She had fully let herself go to slay him, and with the pain digging itself into her - the attempt to pull life - to give life - Emalia's vison began to fade.
Nothing more could be done for Grobnak, and with the loss of all that held her together inside, Emalia collapsed onto Grobnak with a shuddering breath. It was her last. The remainder of her lifeforce shot from her, a brilliant explosion. When the guards finally entered, a body of a baby was in a chair, an orc laid upon the ground in a puddle of black ooze, and atop his chest was a woman in dirty white robes. All were dead.
How To Suffer Yourself
Sanria'd walked for a matter of minutes before heavy and fast footsteps caught up to her. "Where are you going?" Colin asked.
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, it was a little strange for you to just walk off like that. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Sanria had answered with a flat voice. "Why don't you go back to the cavern or even Emalia's house and do your waiting."
"Please, talk to me."
"No, it's alright. You really should go back... in case Throm actually returns."
"Sanria, please, don't just leave like this."
"I've done nothing but bring hostility to this whole enterprise. It's best that I take myself and my beliefs far from here... and keep them there. I'm truly not helping anyone... and I haven't been."
Instantly, Colin dismissed this. "Sanria... I can't even tell you how much you have helped me. You have been there for me all through these past few weeks. If it weren't for you I probably would have driven myself crazy."
"I didn't do that. You kept yourself from that insanity. Perhaps by believing in yourself. Believing we'll find her."
"No. I couldn't have had that strength without you there. Not by myself... I'm literally half the man i used to be. I have been counting on you to be that fire, that strength."
Sanria couldn't keep her eyes on Colin any longer. She stared at the ground as he continued. She had only wanted to be wanted. Only wanted to know that someone felt that she was worth sharing with, worth truly loving. Her reality quickly blurred and feelings that never should have risen... did. "I'm not as strong as you believe me to be, Colin." With that, she forced them away, brought back to herself her purpose and goal.
They discussed her trip north and finally, Colin interrupted. "Look, the truth is I need you. If you have no more hope left, let me be the hope. I need you be the fire, the resolve, the anger even."
No no no. NO. Sanria thought. This was not the right feeling. Not in the least. Hearing someone want her... need her... and tell her such a thing...
And so she lay, staring at the opposite wall, back to Colin as he dozed in the chair. She lay there, wondering if she shouldn't try to sneak out and finish herself off. She didn't believe Emalia was going to return. Even if she did, she could only see another Thasmudyan. She didn't believe it... but Colin did... and whatever had possessed her to kiss her own son-in-law... it had driven her nearer to insanity than she had been in a long, long time.
She was guilt-ridden, downtrodden, disgusted with herself, and in a fit of dispair. She knew where her road was headed... yet with Colin on suicide watch as he waited for any word from Throm... there was nothing she could do but suffer every idiotic move she'd ever made. Even with that miniature trespass on her very own daughter, Sanria listened to Colin plead with her... he still needed her. According to him, they all did. She had been designated as the anchor for the sanity of everyone else. She just didn't know how she could keep herself from unraveling.
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, it was a little strange for you to just walk off like that. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Sanria had answered with a flat voice. "Why don't you go back to the cavern or even Emalia's house and do your waiting."
"Please, talk to me."
"No, it's alright. You really should go back... in case Throm actually returns."
"Sanria, please, don't just leave like this."
"I've done nothing but bring hostility to this whole enterprise. It's best that I take myself and my beliefs far from here... and keep them there. I'm truly not helping anyone... and I haven't been."
Instantly, Colin dismissed this. "Sanria... I can't even tell you how much you have helped me. You have been there for me all through these past few weeks. If it weren't for you I probably would have driven myself crazy."
"I didn't do that. You kept yourself from that insanity. Perhaps by believing in yourself. Believing we'll find her."
"No. I couldn't have had that strength without you there. Not by myself... I'm literally half the man i used to be. I have been counting on you to be that fire, that strength."
Sanria couldn't keep her eyes on Colin any longer. She stared at the ground as he continued. She had only wanted to be wanted. Only wanted to know that someone felt that she was worth sharing with, worth truly loving. Her reality quickly blurred and feelings that never should have risen... did. "I'm not as strong as you believe me to be, Colin." With that, she forced them away, brought back to herself her purpose and goal.
They discussed her trip north and finally, Colin interrupted. "Look, the truth is I need you. If you have no more hope left, let me be the hope. I need you be the fire, the resolve, the anger even."
No no no. NO. Sanria thought. This was not the right feeling. Not in the least. Hearing someone want her... need her... and tell her such a thing...
And so she lay, staring at the opposite wall, back to Colin as he dozed in the chair. She lay there, wondering if she shouldn't try to sneak out and finish herself off. She didn't believe Emalia was going to return. Even if she did, she could only see another Thasmudyan. She didn't believe it... but Colin did... and whatever had possessed her to kiss her own son-in-law... it had driven her nearer to insanity than she had been in a long, long time.
She was guilt-ridden, downtrodden, disgusted with herself, and in a fit of dispair. She knew where her road was headed... yet with Colin on suicide watch as he waited for any word from Throm... there was nothing she could do but suffer every idiotic move she'd ever made. Even with that miniature trespass on her very own daughter, Sanria listened to Colin plead with her... he still needed her. According to him, they all did. She had been designated as the anchor for the sanity of everyone else. She just didn't know how she could keep herself from unraveling.
To the North!
In the following two weeks, she'd heard nothing from Throm. Her heart had churned with anger - but he was no longer her fiance. He needed not to tell her anything. She kept herself busy calling Colin over to do the odd jobs that she needed done... thereby keeping Colin from losing his mind as she had long before.
When Throm had entered the cavern, telling them he was leaving for a while - Sanria finally reached her limits. "Weren't you doing that already?" she snapped. "Or is a while now... perhaps... months? years? decades? Perhaps now you're helping yourself."
"I'm afraid I've never been to where I'm going...though I don't know how much help to myself such a venture will be."
"Hmmm. I'm sure you'll figure something out, Throm. You always do. In the meantime, we'll find my daughter."
Colin looked at Sanria calmingly. "Sanria, please, let's give him a chance to explain." She listened only for as long as it took for Throm to get Colin's hopes up.
"Don't either of you understand?" she pled. "She isn't coming back... not until she's ready... and... that could be years. So we just have to... have to get used to it."
"You resign yourself too easily..." Throm said.
"Yes, and you disappear as frequently." Again Colin broke in, almost frantic. "You may have lost someone but he was dead, Emalia is not! And I cannot give up until she is back."
Sanria stood dumbfounded. She felt as if she had been slapped in the face. Colin seemed to know that his words cut deeply, but even his attempt to comfort wasn't enough. Sanria had broken at last. With a few hostile parting words with Throm, she mounted the steps, entered her house, and burst into tears.
Grabbing a pack, she began throwing meaningless items into it. Quill, parchment, and a spare robe. She didn't know until she had packed where she would head, but she knew why she was leaving. Long ago... well before she had children... she had gone north to freeze to death. It felt a perfect place now to return, and without Thasmudyan around, she could succeed and simply go to sleep.
With a man who vanished, a daughter who not only hated her - but was also gone, a brother missing, a son who loved her only with scattered attendence, a son-in-law that scowled at her every move - Sanria felt the course was the best. She walked out, apologizing to both Throm and Colin, and headed into the woods.
When Throm had entered the cavern, telling them he was leaving for a while - Sanria finally reached her limits. "Weren't you doing that already?" she snapped. "Or is a while now... perhaps... months? years? decades? Perhaps now you're helping yourself."
"I'm afraid I've never been to where I'm going...though I don't know how much help to myself such a venture will be."
"Hmmm. I'm sure you'll figure something out, Throm. You always do. In the meantime, we'll find my daughter."
Colin looked at Sanria calmingly. "Sanria, please, let's give him a chance to explain." She listened only for as long as it took for Throm to get Colin's hopes up.
"Don't either of you understand?" she pled. "She isn't coming back... not until she's ready... and... that could be years. So we just have to... have to get used to it."
"You resign yourself too easily..." Throm said.
"Yes, and you disappear as frequently." Again Colin broke in, almost frantic. "You may have lost someone but he was dead, Emalia is not! And I cannot give up until she is back."
Sanria stood dumbfounded. She felt as if she had been slapped in the face. Colin seemed to know that his words cut deeply, but even his attempt to comfort wasn't enough. Sanria had broken at last. With a few hostile parting words with Throm, she mounted the steps, entered her house, and burst into tears.
Grabbing a pack, she began throwing meaningless items into it. Quill, parchment, and a spare robe. She didn't know until she had packed where she would head, but she knew why she was leaving. Long ago... well before she had children... she had gone north to freeze to death. It felt a perfect place now to return, and without Thasmudyan around, she could succeed and simply go to sleep.
With a man who vanished, a daughter who not only hated her - but was also gone, a brother missing, a son who loved her only with scattered attendence, a son-in-law that scowled at her every move - Sanria felt the course was the best. She walked out, apologizing to both Throm and Colin, and headed into the woods.
Compounding Problems...
Sanria lay in her bed, her back to the steady breathing of Colin, who was sitting in a chair nearby. She had hit another low in her life and all she could wonder is what she could have done to change it.
Two weeks before she lay in bed, she was at the gates of the Jihad compound. She'd woken up at the gates of Throm's vanished house, and knew the only place he'd be was with Grobnak. So she stormed through the gates, entangling the front guards, and ended up for all her troubles, in a holding cell with several bruises on her arms.
But she was right. Throm was there, in the cell beside hers. She was relieved to find him, but worried about the fact that she was in here also nagged at her. The two spoke for what felt like several hours before Grobnak approached her cell door. "Have you calmed yourself, Sinner?"
"I should say so."
"This one attempted to break into the Compound and has personally insulted myself and our entire organization. What would you do with one such as this if they stormed the home of the Guardians?" Grobnak asked Throm.
"A woman after my own heart."
"Just let him out. You can do whatever you need to do to feel justified to me."
"Throm is here of his own accord, Sinner."
"Why then is he locked up?" Sanria barked.
"So that he does not leave with a dangerous substance he has stolen in the past."
Sanria could not see Throm in the next cell, willing Grobnak to shut his mouth, but confusion and sudden curiosity got the better of her. "What? What substance?"
"That is not your concern, Sinner," Grobnak hissed.
"Throm? What is he talking about?"
"All will be explained Sanria...I promise. Now is not the time though."
Another coverup. Another deflection of true purpose. Sanria slid to the ground, not really understanding until several more words had passed that Throm was in the compound seeking more black makou. Her heart, in that moment, froze and she sat with her chin on her knees. She'd put her life on the line to save Throm, only to discover that he had returned to the compound for that evil, vile substance. She felt duped.
She was put out at dawn, after hearing a bit of conversation between Grobnak and Throm... about a book... and then... about dreams. Emalia was in a dream. It gave her hope, and she raced home to share the news.
Two weeks before she lay in bed, she was at the gates of the Jihad compound. She'd woken up at the gates of Throm's vanished house, and knew the only place he'd be was with Grobnak. So she stormed through the gates, entangling the front guards, and ended up for all her troubles, in a holding cell with several bruises on her arms.
But she was right. Throm was there, in the cell beside hers. She was relieved to find him, but worried about the fact that she was in here also nagged at her. The two spoke for what felt like several hours before Grobnak approached her cell door. "Have you calmed yourself, Sinner?"
"I should say so."
"This one attempted to break into the Compound and has personally insulted myself and our entire organization. What would you do with one such as this if they stormed the home of the Guardians?" Grobnak asked Throm.
"A woman after my own heart."
"Just let him out. You can do whatever you need to do to feel justified to me."
"Throm is here of his own accord, Sinner."
"Why then is he locked up?" Sanria barked.
"So that he does not leave with a dangerous substance he has stolen in the past."
Sanria could not see Throm in the next cell, willing Grobnak to shut his mouth, but confusion and sudden curiosity got the better of her. "What? What substance?"
"That is not your concern, Sinner," Grobnak hissed.
"Throm? What is he talking about?"
"All will be explained Sanria...I promise. Now is not the time though."
Another coverup. Another deflection of true purpose. Sanria slid to the ground, not really understanding until several more words had passed that Throm was in the compound seeking more black makou. Her heart, in that moment, froze and she sat with her chin on her knees. She'd put her life on the line to save Throm, only to discover that he had returned to the compound for that evil, vile substance. She felt duped.
She was put out at dawn, after hearing a bit of conversation between Grobnak and Throm... about a book... and then... about dreams. Emalia was in a dream. It gave her hope, and she raced home to share the news.
Vanishing... (1-3)
Sanria's hand slowly went back to her whip as she asked, "Where's Sandorin?"
"I don't know... he disappeared. What... what has happened? Please, tell me, what have I done?"
"You probably killed him, you monster. Where is he?"
Sanria's whip unfurled and the tips clattered down with a jingle upon the stone floor. Small electric-like arcs of fire lapped the length of the leather - activated by the user. Sanria's eyes darkened. She had a missing daughter, no lover, a missing brother, and a vile being sitting right at her feet upon which she could release her fury for not only all of those things, but the things Visha had done to her in her past. She lifted her hand and the vines enclosed the slumping figure on the floor. "I wished I could have killed you a long time ago, Visha. Threatening those I love... making me do those... those... horrible things."
"Please, I need your help. I didn't realize what had happened."
"Of course you didn't," Sanria spat.
"In my mind... I saw him in there... and the other."
She flicked her whip, barely slicing into Colin's cheek. "Lies. I tell you this much, you're not going to hurt my daughter. I'll see you dead and gone long before that."
"Emalia. Where is Emalia! Is she alright?"
Sanria's heart flared with rage. Of all the audacious things he could have said... "Oh you evil swine!" Sanria's whip found its tips slicing through the flesh of Colin's chin, fire dancing brightly before simmering down, searing the open wound before going out. "Filth!"
"Listen to me! Please! I didn't know what was inside of me but Sandorin took it out. He went into my mind..."
Sanria looked at Colin now as if for the first time. Her breath caused her shoulders to rise and fall angrily as her uncertainty worked its way through her. Finally, she let the whip drop to the ground and waved a hand, dismissing the vines from her victim. "It was not me," he continued. "Well, the old me, but worse. Whatever it was, Sandorin removed it. I finally realized it was there, he helped me to see, and I was able to help him."
"Then where is Sandorin, and where is that... thing?" Sanria whispered. She looked over with enough time to see the wound on Colin's chin ooze a bit of blood onto the floor. She reached to her pouch with regret, and pulled out several vials of salve.
"I don't know. I remember falling to the floor, I looked up and saw him for only a moment before he vanished." Colin rose and approached Sanria. "Sanria, please. Where is Emalia?"
"She's gone, Colin. To where... no one knows. None can find her."
Sanria dabbed Colin's chin with a paste of stinking herbal salve. She kept her eyes locked on the wound, feeling measurably more at ease knowing he did not have Visha in him any longer, but the worry pressed on her with her wayward brother being gone.
"Throm went into the lifestream to run tests," Sanria said, talking mainly to herself.
"Apparently that black makou is just as bad as I assumed."
"When? When did this happen?" Colin asked, never having heard Sanria's comment.
"When? You remember none of this? She's been done almost seven days."
"Seven days!? But just last night I was there with her!"
"No... you were not. We've all tried reaching her, and even Throm went to Grobnak to question him."
"Throm gave me that black makou, then you had me tangled."
"Colin... that was a week ago. Though, we haven't had any other success... and indeed... have had failures." Sanria immediately looked down, her lips tight, her thoughts on Throm. "Throm figures you and he shared the same odd dream," Sanria said, slightly changing the subject. "Some fellow, Halethiel, was in them."Colin's eyes widened. "Sanria... in the dream... there was another in my dream."
"Another?"
"My shadow, it spoke to this Halethiel, and he to it."
"You saw this man then?"
The two continued speaking, discussing Visha, Halethiel, the dream, and the lack of a body for Emalia. It was then that Colin said something that chilled Sanria to the core. "I took her to another plane before, when I was trying to keep her safe." The admission set both of them on a path to Colin's airship and a piece of his past.
Sanria was kept blindfolded, but the sounds she heard - the moans, the screams, the growling - sent her to the edge of her sanity. She wanted nothing more than to rip the blindfold from her eyes and defend herself, but as Colin informed her... to do so might find her lost in the planar vortex forever.
She could not tell how many places they went, nor how long time passed. Sanria could barely send out her thoughts to seek for her daughter - so terrifying was the trip. But after unknown time spent, there was only silence to greet each request. Emalia was obviously not here. But the idea of planes got Sanria thinking.
"She has to be in a plane somewhere. When we were in one plane, I could not detect anything in the others... I could not feel them even existing. If Sandorin were here, he might know how to better look for her... but..."
Sanria plopped into a chair, utterly exhausted from the strain. "How many more people have to go away," she lamented.
"None, we will find her, find them both. We just have to think this through. Who saw her last?"
A shudder sliced through Sanria as she realized just who she was helping here. It was immediate that she had to remember... this was not Visha. "You did."
"Then we have to assume that I... Visha that is... is responsible."
"It sounds almost foolish to suggest... and I don't think it's possible to do... but... do you think he could have taken her to the dream? In... his dream?"
"I just don't know. How could he? I mean, I can't even use magic. I couldn't... could I?"
"No. Not without something powerful to get her there."
Sanria's thoughts never strenthened into more. Perhaps she might have placed what powerful thing could have let Visha take Emalia into a dream - but she had never heard of such an event, let alone anything that could have allowed such a thing to happen. No, her next thoughts were of Halethiel, and who might know this man. There was only one being she could think of that would begin to have a clue, but Grobnak truly was the last person she wanted to visit.
"I don't know... he disappeared. What... what has happened? Please, tell me, what have I done?"
"You probably killed him, you monster. Where is he?"
Sanria's whip unfurled and the tips clattered down with a jingle upon the stone floor. Small electric-like arcs of fire lapped the length of the leather - activated by the user. Sanria's eyes darkened. She had a missing daughter, no lover, a missing brother, and a vile being sitting right at her feet upon which she could release her fury for not only all of those things, but the things Visha had done to her in her past. She lifted her hand and the vines enclosed the slumping figure on the floor. "I wished I could have killed you a long time ago, Visha. Threatening those I love... making me do those... those... horrible things."
"Please, I need your help. I didn't realize what had happened."
"Of course you didn't," Sanria spat.
"In my mind... I saw him in there... and the other."
She flicked her whip, barely slicing into Colin's cheek. "Lies. I tell you this much, you're not going to hurt my daughter. I'll see you dead and gone long before that."
"Emalia. Where is Emalia! Is she alright?"
Sanria's heart flared with rage. Of all the audacious things he could have said... "Oh you evil swine!" Sanria's whip found its tips slicing through the flesh of Colin's chin, fire dancing brightly before simmering down, searing the open wound before going out. "Filth!"
"Listen to me! Please! I didn't know what was inside of me but Sandorin took it out. He went into my mind..."
Sanria looked at Colin now as if for the first time. Her breath caused her shoulders to rise and fall angrily as her uncertainty worked its way through her. Finally, she let the whip drop to the ground and waved a hand, dismissing the vines from her victim. "It was not me," he continued. "Well, the old me, but worse. Whatever it was, Sandorin removed it. I finally realized it was there, he helped me to see, and I was able to help him."
"Then where is Sandorin, and where is that... thing?" Sanria whispered. She looked over with enough time to see the wound on Colin's chin ooze a bit of blood onto the floor. She reached to her pouch with regret, and pulled out several vials of salve.
"I don't know. I remember falling to the floor, I looked up and saw him for only a moment before he vanished." Colin rose and approached Sanria. "Sanria, please. Where is Emalia?"
"She's gone, Colin. To where... no one knows. None can find her."
Sanria dabbed Colin's chin with a paste of stinking herbal salve. She kept her eyes locked on the wound, feeling measurably more at ease knowing he did not have Visha in him any longer, but the worry pressed on her with her wayward brother being gone.
"Throm went into the lifestream to run tests," Sanria said, talking mainly to herself.
"Apparently that black makou is just as bad as I assumed."
"When? When did this happen?" Colin asked, never having heard Sanria's comment.
"When? You remember none of this? She's been done almost seven days."
"Seven days!? But just last night I was there with her!"
"No... you were not. We've all tried reaching her, and even Throm went to Grobnak to question him."
"Throm gave me that black makou, then you had me tangled."
"Colin... that was a week ago. Though, we haven't had any other success... and indeed... have had failures." Sanria immediately looked down, her lips tight, her thoughts on Throm. "Throm figures you and he shared the same odd dream," Sanria said, slightly changing the subject. "Some fellow, Halethiel, was in them."Colin's eyes widened. "Sanria... in the dream... there was another in my dream."
"Another?"
"My shadow, it spoke to this Halethiel, and he to it."
"You saw this man then?"
The two continued speaking, discussing Visha, Halethiel, the dream, and the lack of a body for Emalia. It was then that Colin said something that chilled Sanria to the core. "I took her to another plane before, when I was trying to keep her safe." The admission set both of them on a path to Colin's airship and a piece of his past.
Sanria was kept blindfolded, but the sounds she heard - the moans, the screams, the growling - sent her to the edge of her sanity. She wanted nothing more than to rip the blindfold from her eyes and defend herself, but as Colin informed her... to do so might find her lost in the planar vortex forever.
She could not tell how many places they went, nor how long time passed. Sanria could barely send out her thoughts to seek for her daughter - so terrifying was the trip. But after unknown time spent, there was only silence to greet each request. Emalia was obviously not here. But the idea of planes got Sanria thinking.
"She has to be in a plane somewhere. When we were in one plane, I could not detect anything in the others... I could not feel them even existing. If Sandorin were here, he might know how to better look for her... but..."
Sanria plopped into a chair, utterly exhausted from the strain. "How many more people have to go away," she lamented.
"None, we will find her, find them both. We just have to think this through. Who saw her last?"
A shudder sliced through Sanria as she realized just who she was helping here. It was immediate that she had to remember... this was not Visha. "You did."
"Then we have to assume that I... Visha that is... is responsible."
"It sounds almost foolish to suggest... and I don't think it's possible to do... but... do you think he could have taken her to the dream? In... his dream?"
"I just don't know. How could he? I mean, I can't even use magic. I couldn't... could I?"
"No. Not without something powerful to get her there."
Sanria's thoughts never strenthened into more. Perhaps she might have placed what powerful thing could have let Visha take Emalia into a dream - but she had never heard of such an event, let alone anything that could have allowed such a thing to happen. No, her next thoughts were of Halethiel, and who might know this man. There was only one being she could think of that would begin to have a clue, but Grobnak truly was the last person she wanted to visit.
Preponderance of Evidence
It was not completely dark when Sanria began her walk home from Throm's house. She walked alone, her head bowed in deep reflective thought, her hands gripping the strap on her pack. She wanted nothing more for him to have simply said 'No.' Was he aware of what it was going to do to her? 'No.' If only. But they both would have known it was a lie, and rather than have that pain, she'd take the pain of the truth.
There was no way she could stay with a man that took chances as if they were tissues in a box. She had risked her life and Thasmudyan's to find him, to save him in the North. She had gotten his word that she would be with him no matter what - but like the proverbial leopard, there was nothing she could do. She couldn't blame herself, she simply had to face the facts... she was growing older and she would be doing it alone.
Sanria thought, then, of Emalia. Perhaps, just perhaps, she would be able to find her daughter and bring her home. It would be like it was for so many years, but this time, they could share one another's company. Sanria, Emalia, and the little baby girl... her granddaughter. Sanria's mouth twitched into an uneasy smile, even as a tear escaped her eye. She'd envelop them in a cocooned world and shut out all the rest of the misery.
At the cavern finally, Sanria headed to Sandorin's laboratory. For now, she and her brother would have a chance to question the horror that was Visha and find out what in the hells happened to her daughter. She walked in and quickly looked around... Colin sat on the floor, looking up at her while Sandorin... was no where to be found.
There was no way she could stay with a man that took chances as if they were tissues in a box. She had risked her life and Thasmudyan's to find him, to save him in the North. She had gotten his word that she would be with him no matter what - but like the proverbial leopard, there was nothing she could do. She couldn't blame herself, she simply had to face the facts... she was growing older and she would be doing it alone.
Sanria thought, then, of Emalia. Perhaps, just perhaps, she would be able to find her daughter and bring her home. It would be like it was for so many years, but this time, they could share one another's company. Sanria, Emalia, and the little baby girl... her granddaughter. Sanria's mouth twitched into an uneasy smile, even as a tear escaped her eye. She'd envelop them in a cocooned world and shut out all the rest of the misery.
At the cavern finally, Sanria headed to Sandorin's laboratory. For now, she and her brother would have a chance to question the horror that was Visha and find out what in the hells happened to her daughter. She walked in and quickly looked around... Colin sat on the floor, looking up at her while Sandorin... was no where to be found.
Brought To Light (Part I of III)
The silence which permeated the room was nearly unbearable for Throm, though it had lasted the course of buy a few seconds. Telling her had been as difficult if not more than he had imagined it would be. She had responded to his call no doubt out of worry, and now Sanria would have to suffer the knowledge of Throm's actions. Sanria's head was still bowed, though her eyes had been locked on him since the silence had set between the two. At last she spoke.
'Why... why? Why did you go? You could have been killed, Throm... you could have died.'
Before he could even think, the words came tumbling from his mouth in torrents which he found himself unable to stop. 'To know the gravity of the situation. To know to what extents we would need to go to get the Makou back from Emalia. As for the dying part...by all normal means I believe I am dead.'
Surprised by his own bluntness of speculation, he quickly recounted what his experience within the Lifestream as well as his findings since his return. It seemed as though his body indeed had an aversion to the Lifestream upon his return. 'Allergic' as he had coined it to Sanria. He had expected her to be disappointed. He had known what a let down it would come as. Even if he had succeeded in his task, he knew she wouldn't have approved. How could she when Throm himself didn't?
For what seemed like forever to Throm, they debated the pros and the cons of the events which had transpired. Sanria stating facts that Throm already knew to be true, and Throm returning to justify his actions though he knew them to be wrong. Eventually the question which Throm had known was coming, though dreaded the most surfaced.
'Were you aware of what you would do to me, Throm?'
With little to no hesitation, Throm responded. 'Yes. I was.'
'Yet you did this anyway...'
It was a statement not a question he knew. Done...he was not going to stand there and explain why he had done things knowing it would hurt her, hurt his people, hurt himself. Such explainations would no doubt lead to further arguements, and he didn't want to argue with her right now. Instead his mind grasped at a single name that had surfaced from his mind when he was within the Lifestream. A name taken from Colin, who had...strangely enough...been having odd dreams of late as well, near visions if he recounted correctly. 'Halethiel...'
'Who is Halethiel?'
Throm quickly recounted the faceless name which had suddenly connected. He watched as Sanria spoke to him, watched as she asked her questions. He could tell by her distant manner that she had been cut deep this time around. The conversation continued, though he wondered what she could possibly say to make him feel worse than he already did.'I love you Throm... I truly do...I just don't believe we...are right for one another.'
Throm cursed himself inwardly, making a mental note to refrain from visiting the Department of Questions Best Left Unanswered from now on. Deep inside of himself, something stirred. Something alien to him...something dark. Hiding his surprise, Throm regained control and recomposed himself. They stood in the broken haven that Throm had once called his 'safest of places' and talked of the past, current, and what the future held for some time. The future held an odd prospect for Throm now. No longer was he under the protection of his people, he knew this for sure. No longer would he watch as the future became the present, as people and events passed him by. Now, the future held a much more limited timeframe than before. Time wasn't as expendable as it was before hand.
As Sanria readied herself for the journey back to her home, Throm walked her to the door, his eyes cast downward upon the sword at his side. His father's own sword, acquired when he himself was within the Guardians. Passed on when he had found his father's final resting place. He couldn't help but wonder if he would have still claimed the blade had he known what trouble it would help him to cause back then. Clearing his throat, he stopped at the door, turning to Sanria.
'Listen...You say you want to hear what I want...then these are my intentions. I intend to find out who this Halethiel is...perhaps he may lead me to Emalia. After I find Emalia, I shall 'dispose' of the Black Makou she carries with her.' He paused taking a deep breath. Casting a quick glance once more at his sword he continued. 'At which point in time I desire nothing more than to return here, hang up my sword, close my gates to the world and concentrate on no more 'issues'. Save that perhaps of finding a cure for...this.'
The prospect of his own retirement...actually speaking them out loud didn't present the feeling of loss he had expected. Rather it was a relief to know that there was something else out there besides the constant run, the next adventure, the next loss. It was time to pass the mantle on to the newer, more eager and energetic era. Expressing his wishes that at the time of his retirement Sanria might join him, he finally allowed her to be on her way. For perhaps an hour, he sat within his ruined work room, his mind wheeling as he attempted to focus on the task at hand, the very same tasks he had laid out before Sanria.
The door burst open with a sudden crash. And within it's frame the figure outlined did not need introduction. Nor did Throm need to see the outlines of the tattooed arms within the dim light to know exactly who his visitor was.
"It's not always easy for a father to understand the interests and ways of his son. It seems the songs of our children may be in keys we've never tried. The melody of each generation emerges from all that's gone before. Each one of uscontributes in some unique way to the composition of life."
'I thought you would have arrived long ago Lithanus.'
The figure stepped from the doorway in the form of a lurch, then stopped short clutching the wall for support. When Lithanus spoke, it sounded more of a gasp than actual conversation. 'What have you done?'
Throm shook his head as he stood. He limped slowly towards the teenager, each step that he took bringing him closer to apparent pain.
'You already know what I've done. As does the Council. I doubt they wish me to return to the Valley this time though.'
Lithanus was breathing hard labored breaths as he still leaned against the wall for support. The closer Throm stepped, the more uncomfortable either of them seemed. Glancing sideways at his father he gave his head a single shake, the very act causing his hair to fall down into his face.
'No, they deem you a threat to the planet...a threat that needs to be removed.' Throm stopped in his tracks, bringing himself to full height despite the pain he still felt in his leg. Tilting his head, he looked upon Lithanus, his eyes narrowing slightly.
'And they've asked you to carry out this removal?'
Lithanus didn't answer, rather he sank to the floor his back to the wall. As he brushed the hair back from his face, the dim light revealed that his pale sweating visage. The eyes which looked upon Throm were laden with dark circles under them. When Lithanus spoke again it was in even more labored context. 'I don't understand...what are you doing to me?'
Throm took another step towards his son. As he did so Lithanus pressed himself hard against the far wall, wincing at the unseen pain which racked his body. Looking down, Throm's own face began to show signs of strain as a single bead of sweat rolled down his forehead.
'Not what I'm doing boy...rather what I am. I'm afraid you'll have to report that you are unable to accomplish your mission. I'm afraid our opposing life energies are rather sensative to each other. Most Cetra as well I'd imagine.' Trying in vain to pick himself up, Lithanus gave a gasping smile.
'I'm not here to try and kill you, they'll have to leave that to someone other than your son. I'm here to make sure you're not dead.'
A small smile broke Throm's face. His smile turned to that of slight sadness as he drew his sword from the holster at his side. Within a few steps he had closed the distance between himself and Lithanus who was now nearly writhing upon the floor. Kneeling down beside the younger man Throm gasped as his every essence rejected that of his son's. Holding the blade close, he could feel the same dark feeling he had felt earlier welling up inside him. In a strained voice he spoke out.
'I...am done.'
He carefully set the sword next to Lithanus, taking both relief and heartache in the fact that it would be the last time that he would lay hands upon the very item he had once worked so hard to get. Lithanus looked up, his eyes now glowing fiercely. It was apparent he was no longer able to form words. No longer able to do much aside from convulse upon the floor. Knowing this, Throm took the liberty of breaking the silence as they didn't have much time.
'It's your turn Lithanus. No longer is this the lifestyle I choose. Stay far from the Council...stay far from the Valley. Many within our people still mean well, but something is amiss within them. No 'good' person would send a son to kill his own father. You are a part of those who revel in knowledge as you do. You no longer need the Cetra, nor the tasks they give you as one would an errand boy. You're better than that.'
His own breath becoming quite labored, he reached out to grip Lithanus' hand and ignored the blinding burning sensation that accompanied such an act.
'This is the last time we will see each other Lithanus. After you leave, none will find this place again. The sword, it was your grandfather's as was this...'
Pulling a key from his pocket he set it beside the sword his fingers shaking from the strain of even such a small act. Giving a final approving nod to his son he rose on unsteady feet and stepped back a few paces, though it didn't appear to help the young man's condition.
'You've come a long way...I'm proud of you.'
Slowly Lithanus dissolved into the very air around him, leaving Throm to stand alone within the room. His looked with disdain upon the blackened archway to which he had been bound since his return. He knew that he would not last long without contact with the Black Makou. After he had rested he would have to pay a visit to the only person he knew of who possessed such a substance.
'Why... why? Why did you go? You could have been killed, Throm... you could have died.'
Before he could even think, the words came tumbling from his mouth in torrents which he found himself unable to stop. 'To know the gravity of the situation. To know to what extents we would need to go to get the Makou back from Emalia. As for the dying part...by all normal means I believe I am dead.'
Surprised by his own bluntness of speculation, he quickly recounted what his experience within the Lifestream as well as his findings since his return. It seemed as though his body indeed had an aversion to the Lifestream upon his return. 'Allergic' as he had coined it to Sanria. He had expected her to be disappointed. He had known what a let down it would come as. Even if he had succeeded in his task, he knew she wouldn't have approved. How could she when Throm himself didn't?
For what seemed like forever to Throm, they debated the pros and the cons of the events which had transpired. Sanria stating facts that Throm already knew to be true, and Throm returning to justify his actions though he knew them to be wrong. Eventually the question which Throm had known was coming, though dreaded the most surfaced.
'Were you aware of what you would do to me, Throm?'
With little to no hesitation, Throm responded. 'Yes. I was.'
'Yet you did this anyway...'
It was a statement not a question he knew. Done...he was not going to stand there and explain why he had done things knowing it would hurt her, hurt his people, hurt himself. Such explainations would no doubt lead to further arguements, and he didn't want to argue with her right now. Instead his mind grasped at a single name that had surfaced from his mind when he was within the Lifestream. A name taken from Colin, who had...strangely enough...been having odd dreams of late as well, near visions if he recounted correctly. 'Halethiel...'
'Who is Halethiel?'
Throm quickly recounted the faceless name which had suddenly connected. He watched as Sanria spoke to him, watched as she asked her questions. He could tell by her distant manner that she had been cut deep this time around. The conversation continued, though he wondered what she could possibly say to make him feel worse than he already did.'I love you Throm... I truly do...I just don't believe we...are right for one another.'
Throm cursed himself inwardly, making a mental note to refrain from visiting the Department of Questions Best Left Unanswered from now on. Deep inside of himself, something stirred. Something alien to him...something dark. Hiding his surprise, Throm regained control and recomposed himself. They stood in the broken haven that Throm had once called his 'safest of places' and talked of the past, current, and what the future held for some time. The future held an odd prospect for Throm now. No longer was he under the protection of his people, he knew this for sure. No longer would he watch as the future became the present, as people and events passed him by. Now, the future held a much more limited timeframe than before. Time wasn't as expendable as it was before hand.
As Sanria readied herself for the journey back to her home, Throm walked her to the door, his eyes cast downward upon the sword at his side. His father's own sword, acquired when he himself was within the Guardians. Passed on when he had found his father's final resting place. He couldn't help but wonder if he would have still claimed the blade had he known what trouble it would help him to cause back then. Clearing his throat, he stopped at the door, turning to Sanria.
'Listen...You say you want to hear what I want...then these are my intentions. I intend to find out who this Halethiel is...perhaps he may lead me to Emalia. After I find Emalia, I shall 'dispose' of the Black Makou she carries with her.' He paused taking a deep breath. Casting a quick glance once more at his sword he continued. 'At which point in time I desire nothing more than to return here, hang up my sword, close my gates to the world and concentrate on no more 'issues'. Save that perhaps of finding a cure for...this.'
The prospect of his own retirement...actually speaking them out loud didn't present the feeling of loss he had expected. Rather it was a relief to know that there was something else out there besides the constant run, the next adventure, the next loss. It was time to pass the mantle on to the newer, more eager and energetic era. Expressing his wishes that at the time of his retirement Sanria might join him, he finally allowed her to be on her way. For perhaps an hour, he sat within his ruined work room, his mind wheeling as he attempted to focus on the task at hand, the very same tasks he had laid out before Sanria.
The door burst open with a sudden crash. And within it's frame the figure outlined did not need introduction. Nor did Throm need to see the outlines of the tattooed arms within the dim light to know exactly who his visitor was.
"It's not always easy for a father to understand the interests and ways of his son. It seems the songs of our children may be in keys we've never tried. The melody of each generation emerges from all that's gone before. Each one of uscontributes in some unique way to the composition of life."
'I thought you would have arrived long ago Lithanus.'
The figure stepped from the doorway in the form of a lurch, then stopped short clutching the wall for support. When Lithanus spoke, it sounded more of a gasp than actual conversation. 'What have you done?'
Throm shook his head as he stood. He limped slowly towards the teenager, each step that he took bringing him closer to apparent pain.
'You already know what I've done. As does the Council. I doubt they wish me to return to the Valley this time though.'
Lithanus was breathing hard labored breaths as he still leaned against the wall for support. The closer Throm stepped, the more uncomfortable either of them seemed. Glancing sideways at his father he gave his head a single shake, the very act causing his hair to fall down into his face.
'No, they deem you a threat to the planet...a threat that needs to be removed.' Throm stopped in his tracks, bringing himself to full height despite the pain he still felt in his leg. Tilting his head, he looked upon Lithanus, his eyes narrowing slightly.
'And they've asked you to carry out this removal?'
Lithanus didn't answer, rather he sank to the floor his back to the wall. As he brushed the hair back from his face, the dim light revealed that his pale sweating visage. The eyes which looked upon Throm were laden with dark circles under them. When Lithanus spoke again it was in even more labored context. 'I don't understand...what are you doing to me?'
Throm took another step towards his son. As he did so Lithanus pressed himself hard against the far wall, wincing at the unseen pain which racked his body. Looking down, Throm's own face began to show signs of strain as a single bead of sweat rolled down his forehead.
'Not what I'm doing boy...rather what I am. I'm afraid you'll have to report that you are unable to accomplish your mission. I'm afraid our opposing life energies are rather sensative to each other. Most Cetra as well I'd imagine.' Trying in vain to pick himself up, Lithanus gave a gasping smile.
'I'm not here to try and kill you, they'll have to leave that to someone other than your son. I'm here to make sure you're not dead.'
A small smile broke Throm's face. His smile turned to that of slight sadness as he drew his sword from the holster at his side. Within a few steps he had closed the distance between himself and Lithanus who was now nearly writhing upon the floor. Kneeling down beside the younger man Throm gasped as his every essence rejected that of his son's. Holding the blade close, he could feel the same dark feeling he had felt earlier welling up inside him. In a strained voice he spoke out.
'I...am done.'
He carefully set the sword next to Lithanus, taking both relief and heartache in the fact that it would be the last time that he would lay hands upon the very item he had once worked so hard to get. Lithanus looked up, his eyes now glowing fiercely. It was apparent he was no longer able to form words. No longer able to do much aside from convulse upon the floor. Knowing this, Throm took the liberty of breaking the silence as they didn't have much time.
'It's your turn Lithanus. No longer is this the lifestyle I choose. Stay far from the Council...stay far from the Valley. Many within our people still mean well, but something is amiss within them. No 'good' person would send a son to kill his own father. You are a part of those who revel in knowledge as you do. You no longer need the Cetra, nor the tasks they give you as one would an errand boy. You're better than that.'
His own breath becoming quite labored, he reached out to grip Lithanus' hand and ignored the blinding burning sensation that accompanied such an act.
'This is the last time we will see each other Lithanus. After you leave, none will find this place again. The sword, it was your grandfather's as was this...'
Pulling a key from his pocket he set it beside the sword his fingers shaking from the strain of even such a small act. Giving a final approving nod to his son he rose on unsteady feet and stepped back a few paces, though it didn't appear to help the young man's condition.
'You've come a long way...I'm proud of you.'
Slowly Lithanus dissolved into the very air around him, leaving Throm to stand alone within the room. His looked with disdain upon the blackened archway to which he had been bound since his return. He knew that he would not last long without contact with the Black Makou. After he had rested he would have to pay a visit to the only person he knew of who possessed such a substance.
Extraction *Part 1-3*
Sandorin paced as he stared at Colin's motionless body. It lay suspended, inches above the floor of the study, held in stasis by a shimmering transparent field. "How could this have happened." he wondered to himself. The plan had seemed flawless. Years ago, as Sandorin had grown wiser he had begun to realize that no matter how much knowledge Visha may have been able to offer, he was just too dangerous to be allowed to continue to roam free. After all, Sandorin had a family to protect, as did so many others in the realms. He had felt it his duty to do something. Tricking him into being locked in this body, incapable of evil acts, even evil thoughts... it was a perfect solution. Sandorin had been so sure of himself.
How could he have known this body would actually become alive. Sandorin's enchantments were flawless on an animated corpse but on a living being... It just wasn't supposed to be that way. And now, to find Visha here, right in the midst of his family, married to his niece, the father of her baby even! The irony of the whole thing was sickening.
Yet, there was something more than that here. He wasn't just dealing with the same Visha in this body. Somehow there were two within this one mind. The Colin that Emalia loved, who had answered Sandorin's questions so truthfully, and Visha just as demented and treacherous as ever but now seeting with a long cultivated hatred. Sandorin didn't know exactly what interaction of magic and lifeforce could have caused this to happen but there was one thing he did know. Emalia loved Colin and Colin felt the same for her.
There was only one thing for Sandorin to do. He had gotten them all in this situation by his actions, now it was going to be up to him to make things right.
Sandorin stopped his pacing at Colin's head, the large man's eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. With a gesture of his hand the body, still contained within the stasis field, rose higher off the floor to chest level. Sandorin looked down into the face before him. The expression was so serene and peaceful, belying the schism contained within. Love and hate, protection and malice. It was up to Sandorin to seperate these two.
At times like this Sandorin was grateful for how many years of his life he had dedicated to finding strength and power in all its forms. He may not have a wife, or children of his own to show for it, but he had knowledge and now that could be used to protect those around him.
Though posessing no particular natural psionic talent of his own he had studied the subject thoroughly. He had a feeling he was going to need every bit of that education now. Sandorin raised his opalescent right hand, reaching through the shimmering field, and laid it gently upon Colin's forehead. Though it was the result of a great tragedy, this magical apendage of his had aided him greatly through the years. Now, just as much as his knowledge, Sandorin was counting on its affinities to get him through this.
Sandorin took several deep breaths to steady his body and focus his resolve. With the final cleansing breath he closed hs eyes. The pearly white hand resting on Colin's head began to glow, pulsing slightly with the beat of Sandorin's heart. A moment later the fingers began to shimmer and then spread, almost as if melting upon the large man's skin, before sinking entirely under the surface.
Sandorin was immediately immersed within a turbulent malestrom. Light and dark swirled about in a chaotic dance. The dark thrashing violently against the light. The light momentarily broken apart before rejoining and repulsing the dark. The dark was viscious and dominating, the light resilient but fractured. Sandorin could tell that it would only be a matter of time before the light would be broken apart entirely, leaving only the dark as a cohesive whole.
Sandorin took action. He focused his will into a shimmering, pearly net. It swept through the expanse before him to collect the darkness. But something was wrong, it wasn't working. Like trying to collect oil floating in water the darkness was slipping through, trailing like little beads that quickly rejoined. The new presence was now noticed and the darkness reacted. It attacked the net, crashing in waves against it, threatening to snap the shimmering strands.
A stabbing pain shot through Sandorin's mind but he steadied himself. With a supreme effort he refocused his will and the shimmering net tightened, forming into a tighter weave. Again it swept through the expanse, this time collecting the dark as it went. But the darkness did not go quietly, it thrashed and plunged mercilessly against the shimmering weave and for Sandorin the pain was excrutiating. For a moment he faltered, and a hole opened.
Just as the darkness began to spill through the light finally came into action. It slammed into the darkness forcing it back through the opening and enveloped the weave, pushing it along. The pain immediately lessened for Sandorin and he quickly enveloped the last of the darkness within the weave. With one tremendous strain that felt like lifting the dead weight of a horse Sandorin pulled himself back from the expanse.
He opened his eyes and blinked, momentarily blinded by the sting of sweat running into them. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath and his robes clung to his damp skin. He quickly wiped the sweat from his eyes with his left hand and looked before him. Colin's motionless body still floated there and above it Sandorin held his pearlescent right arm aloft. Clenched tightly within his fist was a writhing, smoky black mass. Sandorin permitted a small smile to crack his lips before collapsing to the floor.
How could he have known this body would actually become alive. Sandorin's enchantments were flawless on an animated corpse but on a living being... It just wasn't supposed to be that way. And now, to find Visha here, right in the midst of his family, married to his niece, the father of her baby even! The irony of the whole thing was sickening.
Yet, there was something more than that here. He wasn't just dealing with the same Visha in this body. Somehow there were two within this one mind. The Colin that Emalia loved, who had answered Sandorin's questions so truthfully, and Visha just as demented and treacherous as ever but now seeting with a long cultivated hatred. Sandorin didn't know exactly what interaction of magic and lifeforce could have caused this to happen but there was one thing he did know. Emalia loved Colin and Colin felt the same for her.
There was only one thing for Sandorin to do. He had gotten them all in this situation by his actions, now it was going to be up to him to make things right.
Sandorin stopped his pacing at Colin's head, the large man's eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. With a gesture of his hand the body, still contained within the stasis field, rose higher off the floor to chest level. Sandorin looked down into the face before him. The expression was so serene and peaceful, belying the schism contained within. Love and hate, protection and malice. It was up to Sandorin to seperate these two.
At times like this Sandorin was grateful for how many years of his life he had dedicated to finding strength and power in all its forms. He may not have a wife, or children of his own to show for it, but he had knowledge and now that could be used to protect those around him.
Though posessing no particular natural psionic talent of his own he had studied the subject thoroughly. He had a feeling he was going to need every bit of that education now. Sandorin raised his opalescent right hand, reaching through the shimmering field, and laid it gently upon Colin's forehead. Though it was the result of a great tragedy, this magical apendage of his had aided him greatly through the years. Now, just as much as his knowledge, Sandorin was counting on its affinities to get him through this.
Sandorin took several deep breaths to steady his body and focus his resolve. With the final cleansing breath he closed hs eyes. The pearly white hand resting on Colin's head began to glow, pulsing slightly with the beat of Sandorin's heart. A moment later the fingers began to shimmer and then spread, almost as if melting upon the large man's skin, before sinking entirely under the surface.
Sandorin was immediately immersed within a turbulent malestrom. Light and dark swirled about in a chaotic dance. The dark thrashing violently against the light. The light momentarily broken apart before rejoining and repulsing the dark. The dark was viscious and dominating, the light resilient but fractured. Sandorin could tell that it would only be a matter of time before the light would be broken apart entirely, leaving only the dark as a cohesive whole.
Sandorin took action. He focused his will into a shimmering, pearly net. It swept through the expanse before him to collect the darkness. But something was wrong, it wasn't working. Like trying to collect oil floating in water the darkness was slipping through, trailing like little beads that quickly rejoined. The new presence was now noticed and the darkness reacted. It attacked the net, crashing in waves against it, threatening to snap the shimmering strands.
A stabbing pain shot through Sandorin's mind but he steadied himself. With a supreme effort he refocused his will and the shimmering net tightened, forming into a tighter weave. Again it swept through the expanse, this time collecting the dark as it went. But the darkness did not go quietly, it thrashed and plunged mercilessly against the shimmering weave and for Sandorin the pain was excrutiating. For a moment he faltered, and a hole opened.
Just as the darkness began to spill through the light finally came into action. It slammed into the darkness forcing it back through the opening and enveloped the weave, pushing it along. The pain immediately lessened for Sandorin and he quickly enveloped the last of the darkness within the weave. With one tremendous strain that felt like lifting the dead weight of a horse Sandorin pulled himself back from the expanse.
He opened his eyes and blinked, momentarily blinded by the sting of sweat running into them. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath and his robes clung to his damp skin. He quickly wiped the sweat from his eyes with his left hand and looked before him. Colin's motionless body still floated there and above it Sandorin held his pearlescent right arm aloft. Clenched tightly within his fist was a writhing, smoky black mass. Sandorin permitted a small smile to crack his lips before collapsing to the floor.
Thoughts in a bubble
Sanria sank into the bathtub at her home. Though Sandorin and Colin were nearby, she felt nothing would change if she took a few minutes to collect her fleeing thoughts. Her talk with Lithanus, Throm's son, had left her feeling confused, worried, angry, and more than anything, afraid. They had no idea where Throm was, and with his having given black makou to Emalia, Colin turning out to be -at least part- of some evil entity, and Emalia seeming to have vanished off the face of Toril all together - Sanria needed this moment more than ever.
The bubbles popped in a steady hiss around her as she finally touched the bottom of the tub. Sanria leaned back and closed her eyes, letting out a deep sigh. Her thoughts brushed over the fact that both she and Lithanus had discussed - no body. Emalia couldn't be dead, otherwise her essence would have been detected or a body located... and neither had come to pass. No one could locate Emalia, and that could be viewed both as a good thing... and a bad.
Sanria's mind then shifted to Throm. Applying the selfsame logic, she knew he could not be dead. There was no body, there was no sense of his essence. But why? Why had he gone off without a word to her, again? Indeed, had he gone of his own will, and was he now in the same place that Emalia was?
While the hot water did rest her tight muscles, Sanria still had a few tears slide down her cheeks. She pulled a wet hand from the water to rest it upon her forehead, sending rivulets of water along her skin and in the same channels as her tears. Why was this happening to her again? Was it something she had done to offend the Gods? She began to fully contemplate breaking off her engagement to Throm (if she ever found him to do such a thing), and suffering only the loss of love rather than the loss of a lover, even though it was already taking place.
Sitting up, Sanria hunched to where her tired face had almost hit the water and began to sob. Memories, hopes, dreams - each and all danced through her head in a parade of visions until one voice broke through the muffled voices of thought. It came to her like a giant bell ringing clearly through the air. 'Sanria...'
Whatever self-loathing and piteous feelings Sanria held for her situation fled like night at the touch of dawn. She lept from the tub, water flying in spatters upon the floor. She nearly fell to the ground, and snatching her towel, she wrapped it around her body and sped to the door. 'THROM!'
The bubbles popped in a steady hiss around her as she finally touched the bottom of the tub. Sanria leaned back and closed her eyes, letting out a deep sigh. Her thoughts brushed over the fact that both she and Lithanus had discussed - no body. Emalia couldn't be dead, otherwise her essence would have been detected or a body located... and neither had come to pass. No one could locate Emalia, and that could be viewed both as a good thing... and a bad.
Sanria's mind then shifted to Throm. Applying the selfsame logic, she knew he could not be dead. There was no body, there was no sense of his essence. But why? Why had he gone off without a word to her, again? Indeed, had he gone of his own will, and was he now in the same place that Emalia was?
While the hot water did rest her tight muscles, Sanria still had a few tears slide down her cheeks. She pulled a wet hand from the water to rest it upon her forehead, sending rivulets of water along her skin and in the same channels as her tears. Why was this happening to her again? Was it something she had done to offend the Gods? She began to fully contemplate breaking off her engagement to Throm (if she ever found him to do such a thing), and suffering only the loss of love rather than the loss of a lover, even though it was already taking place.
Sitting up, Sanria hunched to where her tired face had almost hit the water and began to sob. Memories, hopes, dreams - each and all danced through her head in a parade of visions until one voice broke through the muffled voices of thought. It came to her like a giant bell ringing clearly through the air. 'Sanria...'
Whatever self-loathing and piteous feelings Sanria held for her situation fled like night at the touch of dawn. She lept from the tub, water flying in spatters upon the floor. She nearly fell to the ground, and snatching her towel, she wrapped it around her body and sped to the door. 'THROM!'
Going Home
Emalia fluttered her eyes and focused on the wooden ceiling above. She didn't remember for a moment where she was and allowed her eyes to rove. Her body felt rather stiff and she hadn't yet moved when a voice reached her ears. "Ahh! You are awake! I had feared you might not make it, either..."
"Wh... what... happened?"
"I found you had fallen asleep in the fields below. Passed out it would seem. You have been very ill for several months now."
Emalia suddenly recalled everything - her being drug to this plane by Colin, her being trapped in this very same cabin, her being unable to find anywhere to go in this maddening landscape, and the fact that everyone was telling her she was ill from some disease Grobnak carried.
"And... I am terribly sorry to tell you this, but your baby did not make it."
Emalia's weakened body seemed to sink further into itself. She looked up at the face of Halethiel, tears in her eyes. She was too weak to seek Brin's form. Too weak to verify anything other than the fact that Brin was no longer within her. She had no choice but to believe the emaciated man. She found only enough energy to struggle to a sitting position and raise her hand to wipe at her eyes. Only then did she notice her skin looking almost the color of ash. "On a brighter note," the lank figure continued, "since you have regained consciousness, it would seem that the illness has run its course, and you should be better soon."
Emalia barely heard the words for her own sobbing. She requested Halethiel show her the body of her child, and at the sight of the tiny coffin, her heart broke.
"How... I wasn't sick... I was so sure..."
"We all make mistakes," Halethiel said. "We believe that this happened at some point during your contact with this... Grobnak."
"Grobnak... did this... to me? I can't believe... I can't believe it..."
Emalia could not detect any deception, especially with her current condition. She was informed Colin had been absent for quite some time - though he had apparently visited her weekly, since her falling into sleep. Her worry for her husband increased her "illness," as did the final view of her child - a small, blackening body.
Emalia wanted to grieve, but was almost too exhausted to do even that. She lay back on the bed, growing even more weak. She could not know that her power was cut off from the planet - there was no freeflowing lifestream here to help heal her. She could not know the depths of the lies told to her. She only requested to be left alone - unaware that she, and the body of what she thought was her child, would be transported out of the plane as soon as sleep took her over.
"Wh... what... happened?"
"I found you had fallen asleep in the fields below. Passed out it would seem. You have been very ill for several months now."
Emalia suddenly recalled everything - her being drug to this plane by Colin, her being trapped in this very same cabin, her being unable to find anywhere to go in this maddening landscape, and the fact that everyone was telling her she was ill from some disease Grobnak carried.
"And... I am terribly sorry to tell you this, but your baby did not make it."
Emalia's weakened body seemed to sink further into itself. She looked up at the face of Halethiel, tears in her eyes. She was too weak to seek Brin's form. Too weak to verify anything other than the fact that Brin was no longer within her. She had no choice but to believe the emaciated man. She found only enough energy to struggle to a sitting position and raise her hand to wipe at her eyes. Only then did she notice her skin looking almost the color of ash. "On a brighter note," the lank figure continued, "since you have regained consciousness, it would seem that the illness has run its course, and you should be better soon."
Emalia barely heard the words for her own sobbing. She requested Halethiel show her the body of her child, and at the sight of the tiny coffin, her heart broke.
"How... I wasn't sick... I was so sure..."
"We all make mistakes," Halethiel said. "We believe that this happened at some point during your contact with this... Grobnak."
"Grobnak... did this... to me? I can't believe... I can't believe it..."
Emalia could not detect any deception, especially with her current condition. She was informed Colin had been absent for quite some time - though he had apparently visited her weekly, since her falling into sleep. Her worry for her husband increased her "illness," as did the final view of her child - a small, blackening body.
Emalia wanted to grieve, but was almost too exhausted to do even that. She lay back on the bed, growing even more weak. She could not know that her power was cut off from the planet - there was no freeflowing lifestream here to help heal her. She could not know the depths of the lies told to her. She only requested to be left alone - unaware that she, and the body of what she thought was her child, would be transported out of the plane as soon as sleep took her over.
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