I tasted him again on my lips in soft sweetness once more. His hot breath was on my neck, tracing along my collarbone in a delicate rhythm. My heart raced, and little shivers cascaded down through my fingertips as I placed my shaking palm on the firm of his chest. He pulled away, only slightly, to rest his cheek against mine, and I felt a smile dance at the corners of his mouth as his hands wrapped around my back, pulling me closer once more. We were breathing in tandem. There was a warmth, and the comfort of the tightest embrace wrapped around my body, and a sensation filled me sweeter than any bewitching word to ever be muttered.
It’s a sickly teasing sensation, so visceral and vivid, and something only the mind’s eye can replicate. For alas, of course, this was only a dream. A lovely dream, but a dream no less.
I searched for his face, but only found odd, ever-shifting forms, as my mind struggled to make sense in the darkness. Muted colors swirled, trying to place features, to no success. But, it was in this blackness, this void of my dreamscape, that I swore I felt him - really truly felt him. It was only for an instant, as I reached in the dark, that my outstretched fingers felt something, perhaps his own reaching hand, searching to find mine. Perhaps it was nothing.
But, just as I made another straining stretch forward, I was suddenly in the dark no more. I took a few stumbling steps forward, catching myself on the uneven sandy ground, blinded by the sudden light. It was bright, too bright, and the familiar salty air hit my lungs with a shock. I was once again on the vast unknown shore, blackened sea stretching to the gray horizon in perfect panorama in front of me.
Alone, again.
Out of reflex, my hand reached for my neck, and I felt the familiar binding chain hanging there, unchanged. Even here I could not escape this fate. But the air was warm, comforting, and caused the light fabric of my white sleeping gown to lap against my bare legs in soft swishes. I sighed, stretching my arms, and closed my eyes.
There was peace.
After a few moments, I sat on the sandy shore, letting my toes sink into the cool sand and the soft waves hum their metronome lullaby. The twin circling suns seemed to be hidden by a gray overcast sky, leaving everything in a soft, muted light before me. I looked down to find my once blackened hand completely untouched and back to its natural state. I clenched and unclenched my fist, then smiled once more.
The last thing I had remembered was laying my head on my pillow, listening to Ciro and Milea reminiscing on their days on the frontlines. They spoke of battles, of victories and losses alike in hushed voices as the night grew long. They talked of friends taking their final stands against ferocious beast-riders, brave until their last breath. Then there was the look of fear in a Selphene knight’s eyes when they saw that it was indeed the infamous Ciro before them, halberd at the ready and eyes full of magicked fog from a dozen fresh kills. It was in this muted laughter, warming the room with the flickering fireplace light as I watched it dance on the ceiling, that I must have been finally lulled to sleep.
I watched the horizon with blackened sea calm as ever and wondered if I would ever have any such story to tell. Of course, these past few weeks had been more than eventful, but it was nothing compared to Ciro. I was the victim, the passerby, the observer - not a hero in any right when it came to my sordid tale so far. To have power means nothing if it remains untouched, unused, and idle in the hands of a coward. I, by no means, had any such interest in taking another’s life, but I refused to be a stagnant witness, forever the charge of someone else with a louder voice and sharper weapon. I would carry my weight. I would be a burden no longer.
It was then that the silence was suddenly broken by a shuffling behind me. I jumped in reflex, then quickly turned to see a familiar black bird behind me, feathers quivering in the gentle breeze as it preened itself. My brows furrowed.
“Lumo?” I asked, my voice strange, echoing, and hollow.
But the crow continued, same as before, as if I was not there. I stretched out my hand, slowly, reaching towards the bird’s shining feathered back. To my surprise, the bird quickly pecked at my hand in frustration.
“Ow! You jerk.”
The bird further ignored me, continuing to clean itself diligently. I watched for several moments, resting my head on my knees, watching. I’ve always assumed that this odd bird, often companion in my dreams, was indeed Lumo. It had to be. I sighed.
“If it is you… I - I…”
I stopped myself. I hadn’t thought yet what I would say when I saw him again.
If I saw him again.
No, Lumo had become too much of a force in my life. It would make no sense for him to disappear from my life completely. Although our time together was brief in the scope of things, it felt as though I had known him for a lifetime. Without his interference, so many moons ago, I would be in the custody of the seven judges, if not already put to death.
But why?
Why did he save me? Was I only a distraction from his fate - a life, bleak, forever in the service of Herculea? He could have chosen anyone.
My mind went to the anasilan’s words.
Do you give nothing in return?
I never thought myself as particularly pretty, especially in the wake of Limenta. Nor was I particularly talented. I once thought I maybe was clever, as I had the privilege of reading the mountains of books gifted to me by mother and father. But now, here in the Barrens, I knew that it had all been a lie.
I sighed.
“If this is you, Lumo, I… I hope to see you again. I have… I have so much to share with you. And I hope that when I do see you… if I am lucky enough to have our paths cross again… that I am someone deserving of your affections.”
It was with that final sentence, that I felt an uncomfortable, familiar sensation of tears beginning to gather in my throat.
“I… I am going to be stronger. The next time you see me… I will be enough. I promise… I promise.”
The bird paused, only briefly, and its marble black eyes looked into mine. My vision was blurry, and I started to feel the hot tears fall, but I steadied my breath, doing my best to ignore them. A moment passed, then the odd little bird hopped onto my lap, before it began preening its feathers once again.
I swallowed hard, then gave the crow a small scratch on the top of its head. It did not bite that time.
“I will be worthy.”
I sat, listening to the gentle breeze, letting the air cool my hot face and dry my tears. Above, far behind the overcast gray above, I began to hear something. There was a distant conversation. I listened and heard an unfamiliar voice. A man was speaking of a group of soldiers nearby, an encampment of maybe a dozen or so, just beyond the meadow. I heard Ciro’s voice, words indistinct, before the shuffling sounds of boots.
The voices pulled me out of my dream, bringing me once more to the small underground room, soft pillow at my cheek.
“Should we wake her?” asked the stranger.
“No, let her rest,” spoke Ciro, voice hushed.
I listened as they left, Milea included, and tried to pull myself back to the shore, back to the dream, back to Lumo.
There was a push and pull, and tiny glimpses of sleep came and left every time one of the several mysterious noises of the underground came to interject. I tossed and turned, eyes shut tight for what felt like forever, still unable to fall asleep.
Alas, there was yet another noise at the door, and I listened to the familiar sounds of footsteps enter the room. I sighed and turned inward, opening my eyes just a sliver.
In the dark of the room, illuminated only by the dull red embers of the dying fire, I saw a shadow at my feet. I tried to focus my eyes, but instead of seeing Ciro, there was someone else there, holding my weapon, turning it over carefully in their hands.
I froze, trying to focus, and slow my breath before finally seeing the unnerving black of their eyes and familiar red hair.
The void mage.
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