Emalia sat down on the bench in Market Square with a huff. What in the hell just happened? It wasn't possible that a man who had been proclaimed dead, who had sent her mother into fits of crazies, suddenly rose from the dead and started walking again, was it?
The man came in the house like he owned it. Well, he said he lived there and was to see Sanria, his wife. Emalia was face to face with a stranger, but eventually, she could feel from him a deep sense of honesty. She knew he was telling the truth.
When her mother saw him... it was confirmed. Rarely had her mother ever come out of her ramblings, and suddenly, like a miracle - Sanria was healed. Suddenly, Emalia - the girl who had cared for her mother for most of her own life – was a ghost against the black night. Nothing.
She should be happy, but knowing her mother didn't need her anymore and knowing her position was usurped by a man she didn't even know (not to mention seeing her mother actually in the arms of any male figure), made her a little jealous.
Her mom talked to her briefly after Thasmudyan had gone to bathe. Isn't it wonderful? she had asked. "Aren't you happy? she had asked. It's your father! You finally get to meet him. I'm so excited!" she had said. But no matter what Sanria asked or said, Emalia had only nodded and put on a happy face. What right had she to place sadness on such an unbelievable, incredible, miraculous event?
Neither of them noticed as she slipped out of the cavern. Dressed in her white robe and cloak, she rather stood out against the black, brown, and green of the forest. She had not been to Westbridge very often and she really didn't believe the stories about it being such a terrible place. Her hope was that she would find someone that would need her as her mother once did. Surely, someone would appreciate a young healer, wouldn't they?
Scanning the bustling square, she let out a sigh and waited.
A Fistful of Memories
17 years.
Truly... 17 years.
Sanria stared at the wood grain of the kitchen table, wondering where time had gone. It had effectively swallowed her up, chewed her into pulp with exquisite masticating movements, spat her onto the ground, and left her with children and a brother... but no husband.
Tarran had grown into a strapping, handsome, and clever young man. She had watched him from boyhood growing into a man that would have made Havok proud. He could swindle a deal (evidenced by the many times he was able to get whatever he wanted from Emalia), and wield a sword. Sanria could see much of Havok in him, and she hung her head.
Sighing she pushed up from the table. It was finally a moment of clarity for her. One of so few that she had anymore. 'Too bad Sandorin isn't here," she thought. She thought of Emalia, who Sanria knew was nearby in the observatory. Sweet Emalia who never knew her father only for what she was, his contribution to her life, and stories that Sanria spilled over and over again. Undoubtedly, Emalia would be sitting in the marble throne, humming in tune with the crystals, and looking out over the land. Truthfully, Sandorin had raised her more than Sanria. Poor child of an unfit mother.
17 years.
“Oh Thasmudyan. My life and soul for yours... my life and soul for yours.” Sanria trailed off and headed to the library. The ancient floor was now showing the beginnings of a groove - a circular track worn by Sanria's feet. She could already feel the other world calling her - the chaos that filled her mind and caused her to go 'crazy'. As she began to step into the room, she heard the voice that sounded like the tinkling of tiny bells.
"Mother?" Emalia tapped her shoulder lightly, and when Sanria turned to her, she could see the look of joy on her daughter's face.
"It's you now."
"Yes my little love. It is me, for now."
"I've missed talking to you, you know."
"Sweet dear, I've missed so much. Each time I come out of my stupor, you've turned into more of a woman."
"Oh. Mother. I... well, Tarran said to give his love if you were yourself."
"My little boy... oh tell me if he's well..."
"He is. He misses you, too."
Sanria paused for a moment, staring down at the ground. She had missed so much of her son's life, and truly, she had harbored deep pain for causing him the loss of two "Oh Emalia... if only you knew what it was like. If only you could have seen your father, too. A beautiful man, kind, gentle, and full of such a light... and the energy..."
"Oh mother... please," Emalia pleaded, her hands gripped Sanria's arm a little tighter as her eyes filled up with tears. "Please don't go again..." her voice trailed off into a whisper. "He had so much energy. They never found his head. They never found it." Sanria pulled from her daughter, her eyes glazed over once more. She entered the library, wringing her hands as she walked in her circle, talking to herself again. "If I wouldn't have walked that way, he would have never gone for me. They would never have found him. He would be here with me, protecting me, loving me, loving me. But I don't deserve that. No no no. I don't..."
Emalia hung her head and a single tear slid down her cheek. She then shook her head and sighed, walking to the kitchen to make tea and wait for her uncle to come home.
Truly... 17 years.
Sanria stared at the wood grain of the kitchen table, wondering where time had gone. It had effectively swallowed her up, chewed her into pulp with exquisite masticating movements, spat her onto the ground, and left her with children and a brother... but no husband.
Tarran had grown into a strapping, handsome, and clever young man. She had watched him from boyhood growing into a man that would have made Havok proud. He could swindle a deal (evidenced by the many times he was able to get whatever he wanted from Emalia), and wield a sword. Sanria could see much of Havok in him, and she hung her head.
Sighing she pushed up from the table. It was finally a moment of clarity for her. One of so few that she had anymore. 'Too bad Sandorin isn't here," she thought. She thought of Emalia, who Sanria knew was nearby in the observatory. Sweet Emalia who never knew her father only for what she was, his contribution to her life, and stories that Sanria spilled over and over again. Undoubtedly, Emalia would be sitting in the marble throne, humming in tune with the crystals, and looking out over the land. Truthfully, Sandorin had raised her more than Sanria. Poor child of an unfit mother.
17 years.
“Oh Thasmudyan. My life and soul for yours... my life and soul for yours.” Sanria trailed off and headed to the library. The ancient floor was now showing the beginnings of a groove - a circular track worn by Sanria's feet. She could already feel the other world calling her - the chaos that filled her mind and caused her to go 'crazy'. As she began to step into the room, she heard the voice that sounded like the tinkling of tiny bells.
"Mother?" Emalia tapped her shoulder lightly, and when Sanria turned to her, she could see the look of joy on her daughter's face.
"It's you now."
"Yes my little love. It is me, for now."
"I've missed talking to you, you know."
"Sweet dear, I've missed so much. Each time I come out of my stupor, you've turned into more of a woman."
"Oh. Mother. I... well, Tarran said to give his love if you were yourself."
"My little boy... oh tell me if he's well..."
"He is. He misses you, too."
Sanria paused for a moment, staring down at the ground. She had missed so much of her son's life, and truly, she had harbored deep pain for causing him the loss of two "Oh Emalia... if only you knew what it was like. If only you could have seen your father, too. A beautiful man, kind, gentle, and full of such a light... and the energy..."
"Oh mother... please," Emalia pleaded, her hands gripped Sanria's arm a little tighter as her eyes filled up with tears. "Please don't go again..." her voice trailed off into a whisper. "He had so much energy. They never found his head. They never found it." Sanria pulled from her daughter, her eyes glazed over once more. She entered the library, wringing her hands as she walked in her circle, talking to herself again. "If I wouldn't have walked that way, he would have never gone for me. They would never have found him. He would be here with me, protecting me, loving me, loving me. But I don't deserve that. No no no. I don't..."
Emalia hung her head and a single tear slid down her cheek. She then shook her head and sighed, walking to the kitchen to make tea and wait for her uncle to come home.
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