That rage boiled inside me, rising far beyond my ability to control, and I found myself staring down upon the carnage from above, watching as the Laskans charged—I only saw my own form slowly walking towards them in return. I experienced my fury and pain in their full force, but observed my own actions with an odd, detached sensation.
The world flew into a green-tinged haze rimmed in the deepest black, and I watched as my body moved forward of its own accord, bathed in an aura of dark, menacing shadows, from which tendrils of black vapor writhed in utter fury. My hands held orbs of pure darkness, hideous black things, each larger than my own head. I’d never created anything so powerful before, yet the two spheres held a mere fraction of the deep rage that was boiling inside my veins. Then, with the bare flick of my wrists, the orbs shot forth towards the horde of Laskans that were bearing down on me, extending their own dark tentacles of destruction as they flew towards Tási’s killers.
While my orbs bore down upon them, a flash of light tore through the Laskans as Bane unleashed his fires. I hadn’t called him down from above, but he’d seen what had happened, and shared in the searing pain I’d felt. Hundreds of souls perished in his flames, and the deaths of many more were illuminated by those fires when my orbs ripped through their ranks.
Scores of Laskans were simply obliterated as the orbs themselves reduced everything they touched to a pile of smoldering ruins. The long, black tentacles that extended from each of the black spheres lashed out as they sliced through the Laskan ranks like a scythe, ripping though bodies and cutting them down, leaving a wide swath of death and destruction in their wakes. Nothing withstood their dark power, and the dark orbs’ passing left behind only a thick trail of black ashes among the Laskan lines.
The devastation caused the Laskan charge to falter, but I offered them no reprieve. I watched as my body, surrounded in its dark aura of hazy black, flung orb after orb into the Laskans’ ranks. From somewhere outside my mind, I sensed Bane’s fury and outrage, fueled by my own bitter pain, and he joined me in my relentless assault. Together in our darkness and hate, we rained fire and destruction down on the Laskans. They tried in vain to flee, but their retreat was cut off by Bane’s fires, and their advance was halted in the face of my fury. Screams of pain and agony pierced the cold air, but I did not hear them. There was no room in my mind for their cries or for any restraint—my love for Tási had known no limits; my fury at her death knew no bounds, and I did not stop slinging my orbs of black destruction until not a single Laskan remained before me.
With no targets to unleash my rage upon, I sunk to my knees on the cold, frozen earth. The burning pit of fury inside me yielded to the anguish of loss, but the shock of it left me numb. People came to stand silently beside me, but I only knelt there in the cold snow, consumed with a feeling of deep emptiness—surrounded but yet completely alone. Finally, someone took me by the arm and gently guided me to my feet before leading me back towards the remains of our encampment.
We stopped briefly along the way, and a discussion ensued among those who were escorting me. In my hazy confusion, none of the words registered in my mind, but when we resumed walking once more, our path had been diverted slightly for some unknown reason.
When we stopped again, I stood still for a while, and those around me seemed to wait for me to say or do something, but my thoughts were still lost in my emptiness. Then, out of nowhere, the sound of utter anguish came to me. It struck my heart with such force that I slipped from the grasp of whoever had been holding me and fell to the ground once more. The wail of despair had pierced through the fog of my mind; not only because it echoed so closely my own deep feelings of desolation, but because I’d recognized its source as well.
Before anyone could help me to my feet, I rose on my own, and began walking slowly towards the sound that had stirred me from my grief. There, only a few steps away from me was Venna, sprawled on the ground next to Stel’s body, crying the tears that I should have been shedding for Tási, who lay next to him, shrouded beneath a heavy blanket.
I knelt down in the snow once more, this time between the slowly cooling corpses of Tási and Stel. Venna never tore her gaze from Stel’s body; she only held him in her arms and shed her tears over his lifeless form. His body had been badly broken, and both his left arm and leg were bent at odd angles within the confines of his armor. But that was not the full extent of Stel’s injuries. He’d obviously been close to the site of the explosion and had been all but decapitated in its powerful blast. Stel’s head only remained attached to his body by the barest strip of flesh, a wound so grievous that only Death’s Embrace held the power to restore him.
But Tási had fared even worse—she’d been among the troops atop the low hill when the massive explosion erupted, and even the God-forged armor she wore had provided her with scant protection from it. But it was only when I peeled back her shroud that the full extent of the damage that had been done to her became apparent.
Except for the slight blue tint of her lips, I might have mistaken her for sleeping while Tási remained covered beneath that blanket, but pulling it away revealed that lie to me fully. Nothing but scorched bone and charred bits of flesh remained below her waist, and the desecration of her body continued up nearly her entire left side, where the curled fingers of her hand twisted into a burnt knot.
My love, my Tási, lay beside me on the cold ground, dead. But I had the power to return her to life. I had the power to restore her, even from the state she was in. The power over life and death was mine, to a point, and understanding the true depth and meaning of that power, I withdrew Death’s Embrace from within the folds of my cloak and did the only thing I possibly could with its gift.
I felt the magic flowing over and then through me as it took hold, and its restorative powers began to stitch together the body that lay beside me. The essence of life flowed back into dead flesh, and the utter stillness of the world around me suddenly broke when I heard the sound of a deep breath being inhaled as that essence took hold.
“…No,” someone nearby whispered in disbelief as I turned to cover Tási’s corpse once more.
I stroked her hair and ran my fingers along the cold skin of Tási’s cheek as I began to bid her farewell. Although my sense of loss was deep and profound, I also knew that I had the strength to overcome it—while Venna did not. Stel’s death would have ended her, if not right then, soon after. Perhaps not in any final way, but the person she was would have ceased to exist without him. As painful as it was, I’d chosen to bear the burden of Tási’s loss for her instead, rather than lose the two of them.
“D-Dreya,” Venna’s voice cracked as she called to me, but I ignored her—she had her love back, and I needed a few last moments with mine.
But as I gazed at Tási, the light blue tint of her pale lips spread across her skin, and when it covered her, she burst into a plume of vapor before my eyes. The cloud of mist resolved into a roughly humanoid shape, and an almost recognizable face peered back at me with deep blue eyes.
“Do not mourn our child, Sintári,” the oddly resonant voice called to me. “We sent Tási to you for a purpose. The waters knew your path would be difficult, and that the forces of darkness would call to you strongly. We gave you Tási to ensure that you knew the power of love as well, and in that, she has succeeded beyond anything we dared to hope. Your darkness is strong, but with Tási’s help, your love has grown even stronger, as your selfless act has demonstrated.”
“You will never see her again, Sintári, but neither is Tási lost to you. The part of her that was once ours has returned to us, and you will find her wherever we are. Tási may speak to you from the calm waters of a lake or in the rushing sounds of a stream—all you need do is listen for her. Her body may not be eternal, Sintári, but the waters are. Tási has not left you, although you may need to listen more closely than you’re used to if you wish to hear her voice again.”
Having delivered its message, the water spirit dissolved slowly befor
e my eyes, vanishing completely into the cold air. Once the spirit was gone, nothing of Tási was left on the ground beside me either; only the blanket that had once covered her body. All that was left of her was the slight depression in the snow where she’d lain, and I curled up inside the outline that her body had left behind and tried in vain to pull the emptiness of it into myself.
I huddled in the cold and snow, clutching at Tási’s memory until another voice spoke to me. The words soothed me somehow, and then slowly resolved into recognizable speech as I felt myself being lifted from the ground.
“Come, daughter,” I heard Nentai speaking softly in my ear. “You have suffered greatly. I am sorry that I could not come to you sooner—the limits we placed on ourselves prevented that. But I am here now, and I will do everything I can to ease your pain.”
“…Mother?” I heard myself utter in confusion.
“Shhh. Be at ease, daughter,” the Goddess soothed as she carried me away.
My grief mixed with bewilderment as Nentai laid me down inside my tent and covered me in thick blankets. The Goddess brushed away the hair that had fallen across my face and then slowly traced her fingers across my brow.
“Sleep now,” she spoke to me gently. “You have been through too much; pushed yourself too far. All will be taken care of for you while you recover your strength. I will have to deal with the repercussions of my claim on you when I return home, but that is not your concern. Only know that it may be a while before I can come to you again—and that you are my daughter, and I love you.”
The light grew dim and sleep came over me as Nentai finished her magic. I knew nothing of what followed until much later.
The Goddess emerged from The Empress’ tent in a furious rage.
“You!” Nentai grabbed Ella by the collar of her mail shirt and jerked her around. “See that my daughter is protected. She. Will. Not. Be. Harmed.”
Nentai shook the fully armored woman’s body effortlessly with every word before roughly tossing her aside. The Goddess had several more pronouncements to make, but the next target of her ire was already among those gathered around the Empress’ tent, so she didn’t have to go looking.
“You!” Broda withered under Nentai’s gaze. “Go find some wretched soul to lead this pitiful Realm. And when you do, let them know that I will be coming for those who caused my daughter so much pain.”
The Goddess then stalked the short distance away to where Venna and Stel were still clutching each other in the snow. The two hadn’t fully recovered from Stel’s death and were not among the crowd that had gathered around the Empress’ tent. No one else heard the words Nentai whispered to them, but the look on the couple’s faces spoke them clearly enough for all to guess at their meaning.
“My daughter has sacrificed the woman she loved for you,” Nentai’s words came out in a cool tone that belied her heated resentment. “If either of you do anything but repay her with faithful service, you both will answer to me.”
As Nentai stalked away, it was not lost on either of them that the words they’d heard were spoken to them by the Goddess of Vengeance.
Lastly, Nentai turned to the lone figure who was just then arriving. It had been a long walk from the rear guard, but Líann had come running as soon as she’d heard what had happened. The Goddess met Líann in the open tundra, far enough from prying ears to allow their words to be exchanged in private.
“Táriel,” Nentai surprised Líann. “My daughter has suffered a great loss, and I cannot heal the wounds that have been torn open inside her. But you can. It will be up to you to see that she recovers. She will feel the full pain of her loss when she awakens, and I need you to tend to her. You must do for Dreya what I cannot. Care for my daughter and make her whole again—please.”
Líann was stunned into silence by the Goddess’ emotional plea, almost more so than Nentai’s reference to Dreya as her daughter. All the former Queen could do was nod back in astonishment before Nentai’s form shimmered and then vanished before her eyes. By the time Líann was able to shake off her shock and rush the rest of the way to Dreya, Ella already formed a double ring of guards around the Empress’ tent, and Broda had departed towards Kiva under a flag of parley.
Ella had seen Nentai speak to Líann in the distance and let her pass through the wall of guards without question. Not many would get past so easily, especially after the Goddess’ admonishment, but Líann was certainly among those select few. Once inside, however, there was precious little the Táriel could do. Dreya slept soundly, and Líann dared not do anything to disturb her rest.
The Empress’ sleep went on for many long hours. During that time, Broda elevated one of the minor nobles to King, and the new ruler of Laska, having witnessed the destruction that had been wreaked on his predecessor’s army, hastily signed the Imperial Charter within moments of his coronation.
Unlike in Ansa, there was no one to banish once the new regime was in place—the old King and nearly all of his loyal followers had rushed out with their troops, hoping to partake in the slaughter, only to become the victims of one themselves.
Once the Empire’s affairs had been tended to, the leaders and remaining troops of the Imperial Army wasted no time leaving the scene of their pyrrhic victory. Thousands had been lost in what was revealed to be an incredibly large magical flame trap, supplemented by vats of oil that had been buried beneath the mound of snow. The deviously simple yet effective deception had wiped out nearly half the Empire’s forces in a single, devastating strike, and the survivors of that tragedy wanted nothing more than to be away from the sight of their near defeat as quickly as possible.
“You have violated many of my dictates, Nentai,” Uthalan’s authoritative voice admonished the Goddess as she emerged in her own chambers. “There will be a price to pay for your actions.”
“No,” Nentai countered, answering his tone with her own strident retort. “I am her mother. I will not let your rules come between us any longer.”
“You would dare to defy me?”
“For her, I would dare anything,” Nentai stood before her father, challenging him to doubt her resolve.
None of his children had ever confronted him so brazenly before. Only Veroiá had ever pushed back against his will so strongly, and even then, she’d only done so on behalf of their unborn children. The striking similarity of their maternal fierceness gave the All-Father pause, and he softened his tone just a little.
“Do you deny the role your brothers and sisters played in her creation?”
“She may be their child as well,” Nentai conceded. “But Dreya is my daughter.”
The other Gods had taken interest in the Sintári from time to time, but only Nentai had remained so steadfast in her devotion. Nentai had never faltered or failed to advocate that they do even more to aid the woman, and Uthalan recognized the truth of her claim. Nentai had never known her mother, but Uthalan saw the strength of Veroiá’s devotion clearly in his daughter’s gaze. The memory of his wife stirred something deep inside the ancient God, and he saw no need to deprive Dreya of the mother’s love that his own children had been denied.
“Very well,” Uthalan relented. “I grant you the title of ‘Mother,’ and you alone may call her your daughter.”
“That is a good starting point for our discussion, father,” Nentai replied as she motioned for the All-Father to take a seat. “But I will need a great many more concessions from you before we are done.”
Uthalan found himself in the odd position of feeling somewhat uneasy as he sat down across from his daughter, suddenly turned into a fierce lioness protecting her cub. He wondered just how much he would have to give away to her before Nentai would finally relent.
I woke up some time later and found myself nestled among the pile of pillows that served as a bed inside my carriage. After stretching my sore muscles, I reached out to wrap my arm around Tási, and the shock of her death came back to me when my grasp found nothing but empty air beside me.
“I’m here, Dreya,” I heard a voice call to me. “You’re not alone.”
I turned towards the sound but recognized who had spoken before my eyes focused on her face. It was Ella, sitting across from me in the carriage, and she continued once she saw that she’d gotten my attention.
“Here,” she said, putting a glass to my lips. “You’ve had nothing for almost two days while you slept.”
I tried to drink some of the water Ella gave me but had no desire for it. After just a short sip, I pushed the glass away and let myself fall back into the pillows.
“Several of us have been keeping watch while you slept,” she explained in an almost pleading tone. “We’ve all been very worried about you.”
I really didn’t care how worried any of them were—all I felt was a deep sense of loss, and nothing else mattered to me. Tási was gone, and even worse, I was the one who’d let her go. All I could do was lay there as my guilt mixed freely with the pain and suffering that coursed through my veins.
Over time, people came and went. All of them sat by my side trying to engage me in conversation or cajole me into eating or drinking something. I tried, at least sometimes, but their words meant little to me, and no matter what I ate, it all tasted like ashes in my mouth. Líann, Broda, Saibra, Karina, and Rhia, among others, all took turns sitting vigil over me, while I mostly ignored each of them in turn. Venna was the only one who sat beside me quietly, obviously unsure of what, if anything, she should say.
Then, suddenly, the carriage lurched to a stop, and light streamed in as the door opened wide. I heard hushed voices outside, and Aiva, who’d been with me at the time, scurried away in a hurry. The door shut again as someone else took her place, and I continued to ignore whoever the newcomer was, caring nothing for the odd events that surrounded the shift change by my side.
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