[Skell]
"M-Ma'am," muffled a flustered Templar, "I'm under strict orders not to allow civilians inside. That includes those considering themselves… 'exceptionally entrancing'."
Next came a familiar velvety groan. "Order this, order that; the same unthinking drivel ad nauseum. In the event you were 'ordered' to sit upon the point of a spear, you'd listen, wouldn't you?"
I whistled; Amara tugged awkwardly on a lock of hair; the middle-aged Warden stared aside at the hexagonal wall between us and the visitors on the other side.
"Erm…" the Warden cocked a brow, "are you quite sure you know these people?"
Amara's eyes swerved to the acres of grassy courtyard behind us, so I took it upon myself to nod with a grin. A storm still raged inside my mind after what happened under the archives, but for his sake, I wouldn't let it rain on our reunion.
"…Very well, then." The Warden produced a glowing blue crystal. Enchantments resonated between it and the wall ahead. In seconds, the stone hexagon faded into an open, six-sided corridor. Lapis lazuli and white timber clad every facet - as artistically masterful as when I first stumbled through them. Avant-garde craftmanship of this level could hold anyone's eyes hostage for hours.
It took mine under a second to blaze past the legendary artwork to a mundane freckled face.
"Oliver!" Amara and I blurted.
My arms were at the other side of the gateway in a flash. Yeah - I hugged him, like it was the last thing I'd ever do. Not just because I missed him. But because… I could really use it.
Though as I surfaced from the serene moment, I noticed he felt wider than I remembered. And buffer. And…
Metallic?
Oliver laughed like an overjoyed wind chime. "Guys, I never reckoned you'd be so glad to see me! Amara, Skell, have you been well?"
I leaned back, finding Oliver in one arm and Amara in the other. We quickly broke off the embrace, side-eyed each other, then turned to the expectant hunter.
"We've been great!" I forced.
"Indeed, perfectly well!" agreed Amara.
"Typically," interjected a voice behind Oliver, "I'd utter something akin to 'no embrace for a lovely young lass?' but considering one of you is slick with gore and the other is as cold as…" she craned her neck, finding the two Templars had hurriedly sealed themselves inside the Citadel, "…a corpse, I believe I'll skip the happy hugging."
The old witch's knowing smile made Amara piss herself. "Wh-who is this?" her voice dropped to an unbendingly tense whisper. "How does she know!?"
Oliver tilted his head. "That's Miss Cynthine. Remember? We told you about her."
"C-Cynthine?" Amara took a double-take.
"Wonderful to finally meet you, little-miss-whisper." Cynthine ran confident fingers through wavy indigo hair. "You're exactly as your brother and Ansel described."
"But you… you appear so young and, and…" Amara desperately hid burning cheeks behind cold gauntlets, "um… n-nevermind that! Are you truly seventy years old?"
"That's what my back tells me." Cynthine massaged the spine of her periwinkle gown. "But I welcome the compliment. I'd also welcome silence when it comes to that particular tidbit. Unlike the boys, I'm sure you're well aware of the consequences of my… shall we say talents, becoming a known quantity."
Conflict rolled over Amara's features, but eventually she resigned to a nod. Truth and justice were the Knight's M.O. after all, but even she wouldn't throw the head of her pops' old pal on the executioner's block. Besides, if she could tolerate an undead in the Order - she'd better be able to stomach a lowly glamour mage.
"Hold on," I realized something. "Last we spoke, Cynthine, you were sitting comfortably at home, surrounded by your legion of ravenous demons."
"Cats," she corrected venomously.
"Whatever." I turned to the hunter. "And Oliver, you set out for Cynthine's place. So why are you both here in Selem?"
Oliver looked like I'd asked him what month it was. "Because I wanted to congratulate you for becoming a Templar! Why else?"
"R-really?" A more genuine smile snuck onto my face.
"Apologies for our tardiness," Cynthine said. "Oliver wished to arrive yesterday, to see you riding atop those strange flying 'gribbin' creatures."
"Gryphons," I corrected.
"Whatever. Point is, I haven't traveled in decades. I hate to admit my slow pace delayed our surprise visit."
"Miss Cynthine, I told you it's fine," insisted Oliver. "We still got to see him!"
The glamour mage put a delighted hand to her heart. "Ah - sweet as always, aren't you dear?" Then she turned to me. "Skell, I'll be frank: when Oliver relayed your scheme, my first thought was that you've lost all semblance of sanity. Never would I expect you to join forces with the same organization that nearly ended you not so long ago. Or that you'd actually overcome these so-called 'Sacred Ordeals'."
A familiar pain cropped up in my chest.
I knew my odds were hard to bet on, but…
"However," Cynthine continued, "Oliver never held the slightest glimmer of doubt. "Whenever I spoke ill of your chances, he told, no, righted me by saying 'with Amara's help, nothing in the world could stop him.'"
With Amara's help?
My attention shifted to Oliver. His gap-toothed grin carried a faint air of "I told you so".
"You…" I hesitated. "…Thanks."
A glove quickly swept over my eyes. Because… something was in them. Not tears.
The glamour mage examined the clothes decorating her masterwork: me. "Just look at you: dressed like an accomplished prince. You've done it." She glanced aside. "Suppose, then, that I was the naive one. What are you, if not the impossible made possible?"
"Don't put yourself down," I recovered. "Regardless of faith, I wouldn't have been able to fill out this garb so nicely without your glamour. And Shroud training. Your help in general, really."
Involuntarily, my eyes pointed toward Amara. Hers were glued to the floor. Pensive. I knew how she felt. It was creeping into my mind too.
"And everyone else's…" I added.
"Hm. Do I finally sense a modicum of respect for your elders?" Cynthine jabbed. "But I digress. The mouth of the Citadel, I'm finding, isn't a proper place for prolonged conversation. Come." Cynthine turned to the path ahead, leading to the greater city. "I've purchased an inn room for the next few nights. I would've rather preferred to see inside this Citadel, but perhaps its best my mortal eyes don't take in such divine radiance."
I figured Amara would take offense at Cynthine's mockery. But the Knight seemed to barely have the energy to walk, let alone be angered.
Then I remembered I was supposed to be angry with her.
"Are… you guys feeling well?" Oliver's eyes flicked between us.
"Look at them, dear," said Cynthine. "With a week like theirs, they're bound to be exhausted."
Amara nodded sluggishly. "Thoroughly exhausted." She passed by us all, eyes heavy like lead orbs. "This inn, let's hasten to its doors."
—————————————————————————————————
The first scintilla of light glinted from over the cityscape's horizon.
Well, natural light. Seas of artificial beacon-light slathered every step of ours along the sloping path to the Argent District. Save for Oliver's.
He made a point to avoid that path whenever possible - forging his own winding trail through the emerald lawn on either side. Something in his beaming smile made me jealous. I should've kicked myself for the feeling, but compared to Amara's drained frown and the mask I wore over my despair, Oliver's smile just felt… freer.
Urgh. Think of something else.
I did. I kinda wish I didn't. Misery-wallowing and pointless pondering ricocheted my mind around 'til it got dizzy. Focus struck it still, though, when I happened upon a revelation.
"Oliver? Cynthine? Wasn't this visit… risky?" I checked for listening passerby, finding none. "I don't even wanna entertain the thought. but what if my identity was exposed? If you came asking for an undead by name, you might've been implicated too."
"Oh, no - we definitely would've," assured Cynthine.
The hunter veered back onto the path. "But we already knew you were a Templar."
"Oliver, I appreciate your confidence, but even you couldn't be totally sure."
"No," he held his hands out, "like knew knew."
I squinted. "How?"
"Soleil LaDeux!" announced a distant voice. Chills scrubbed down my spine… 'til I realized the shouting came from a crier.
"Yamui Yatagarasu! Hyland Peredur! And last but not least: Skell Valzo! These individuals - good people of Selem - are your newest Templars, ever-present guardians of-"
I slouched, tuning out the rest of the man's minutes-long spiel.
…Oh.
One wind art, and a crier's voice could waft throughout the better part of a district. And I'd bet every round I had - if I had any - that he wasn't the only crier airing his lungs out.
Abyss. Whole city knows my name. Including… wait.
Cynthine massaged the bridge of her nose. "Suffice it to say, Skell Valzo was not what I expected to hear on our jaunt to the Citadel."
My brows hit my hairline. "Uh, see, what had happened was…"
She lent me a critical ear, itching to know why I'd stolen her last name.
"Well, I couldn't just apply to the Order with one name - that's too fishy for someone trying to blend in."
"Mmhmm," grunted the glamour mage.
"So I added a last name. But I couldn't use Maud."
"What?" Lucidity snapped into Amara's eyes. "Why not?"
"Were his identity uncovered," Cynthine explained, "ties to you would be doubly strong, if you shared surnames."
Except Karthwyn apparently knows we've interacted. Guess it's even better that wrinkled old sack never got me, then.
"That's exactly what I wanted to avoid," I confirmed. "So 'Valzo' it was. Figured you were so far down in Belza Hill that it'd never affect you. And it never will. No one's gonna find out about me."
"Eh," Cynthine exhaled. "I was more intrigued than concerned. I've no fear of the Order somehow linking us and wasting resources to pursue me. I've evaded the authorities of a dozen nations a hundred times, in my day. Closest they'd get is to where I'd relieved myself the prior week."
"You've done what?" The Knight started whispering to herself. "What manner of activities did grandfather involve himself with…?"
Oliver laughed. "You're the coolest seventy-year-old lady ever!"
Amara's gaze jumped to him. "Y-you think evading the authorities is… 'cool'?"
I interjected. "Do I need to address the elephant in the room?"
"Elephant?" Cynthine smiled cheekily, gazing left-to-right. "Where?"
"The 'elephant' is your cats. Your house." I ignored how stupid my statement was. "Say in this unlikely scenario, Templars track you there. Obviously you can't stay. So what's the plan? Leave everything you care about behind to escape?"
"Certainly not," she answered strongly. "Not when all I care about has already been brought with me."
"Huh?" My gaze drifted to Oliver's backpack. "You didn't cram your house in there." I ran the numbers in my head. "…Right?"
Cynthine cackled. "Rest assured, my home remains in Belza Hill. Simply put, recent events have spurred me to leave it behind. Permanently."
Something in Oliver's posture changed. A question filled my mind before I could wonder why.
"You're… traveling!?" I examined her very-genuine face. "At your age? Why?"
"Excuse me!" she folded arms. "I'm not so advanced in years as to be infirm! And if you must know, it's not just I that has adopted the vagabond lifestyle - Oliver accompanies me."
My metaphorical heart skipped a metaphorical beat.
Amara's skipped a literal one. "Oliver, that's how you've chosen to spend your future!? Wandering!?"
I tensed - expecting the worst from her. Not the best.
"That's amazing! You've found direction!" she smiled. "I suppose your direction is any and all directions - but you have my wholehearted support."
Speaking of broken expectations, I figured Oliver would look glad. And he did. Equally glad as nervous.
"Miss Cynthine…" he trailed.
"Ah," she paused. "Apologies, dear. It completely slipped my mind."
"'It'?" repeated Amara. "May I have some clarity?"
Cynthine frowned. "Unfortunately, I'm not at liberty to supply it."
"It's something I can't tell you yet," Oliver clarified. Sorta. "Yeah, I want to walk the world instead of being fenced in forever. But… there's more. There's something I really have to do, and I really can't tell you guys until I've done it."
Oliver's keeping secrets? From us? Shade, don't tell me I've been a bad influence.
"What's keeping you from talking?" I asked.
"Are you in danger?" Amara followed up.
"Oh, no!" he shook his head vigorously, "It's a surprise, is all."
Whew.
The Knight put a hand to her temple. "I-" she exhaled. "Oliver, I understand you adore surprises, but should this really be the sort of thing you keep to yourself?"
"Sorry, Amara, but this is a really big deal. Like… oh! Remember in Sienna Village, Esme would use bio magic to tell if a pregnant woman was having a boy or girl? Then we'd throw a party to celebrate?"
"I do remember," Amara smiled weakly. "Merry events, in retrospect."
"Exactly!" Oliver nudged her. "I want something like that!"
"Pardon?" Her eyes darted to Oliver's belly.
"Not a pregnancy! In three months, when I finally do that 'thing', we should throw a party! But it wouldn't be as fun if that 'thing' hasn't happened yet."
"Three?" I questioned. "I haven't even been un-alive that long. Then again, I'm no stranger to waiting."
We turned to Amara to get her opinion. "…This big reveal - it gives us another date to look forward to."
…Another one, huh?
"Thanks a bunch guys, for coming around!" Oliver's face brightened. "I know it'll feel like a long time, but it'll all be worth it! Promise!"
Reaffirmed by our smiles, the hunter cheerfully veered ahead, 'til the path shifted into a wide cobblestone avenue walked by the capital's earliest risers.
Yup. We'd finally stepped out of the Citadel's paradisal fields, and into the silver-gray mecca of administration that was the Argent District. Even this early, I knew we'd get recognized: our group featured a freshly-triumphant Squire and a Knight forging her meteoric rise through the ranks, after all. It never should've turned out this way. I should've been a shadow on the horizon before Selem ever saw sunrise. A living man. Not a shadow of my former self. But resurrection was beyond my reach. And the limelight was coming whether I liked it or not.
This life as a Templar. Abyss… it really will be longer than I imagined. So much longer.
Despair should've swallowed me whole. It definitely tried. And yet, some small part of me refused to be chewed up and spat out. Maybe my past life was in the future, like before. The distant future. But one thing was different:
Resurrection existed.
Provably. Without doubt. And it was just a door away.
I had a family. A home. Years likely separated me from them already, magnified by the seven ahead. A heartbreaking thought. But I'd claw my way to them eventually. Because if there was one resource I had in abundance, it was time.
And allies.
And…
I looked to the hunter ahead of me, sauntering through the very first rays of a new dawn with infectious spirit.
Something to look forward to.
—————————————————————————————–———–
"Wow," Oliver stopped at the peak of the wooden stairs, calling down to us. "You guys sure are popular! I thought we'd never make it out of the streets."
Next came Cynthine, inspecting her reflection in the mirror I gifted back in Belza Hill. "I'm hardly surprised. A prodigious Knight, a brand-new Squire, a hunter in wyvern scales, and the most ravishing lady in the nation. We're lucky we didn't stroll into any pubs; we'd likely make for the opener of a joke."
I followed after, supporting Amara's exhausted body up the lantern-lit steps. "You don't sound too bothered. Gee, I wonder if it's because you weren't the one signing everyone's knockoff armor, or answering questions about 'what it means to be a Templar,' or kissing babies on the forehead so their weird parents would leave us alone."
I wiped my mouth again and popped my wrist. Doubt even regeneration can fix the crick in my cooking hand.
"She did secure us this room," Amara yawned between slightly-slurred words. "Templar armor tends to be a ticket for free services, but I didn't consider that making the innkeeper salivate like a dog could extend that same… 'courtesy'."
Cynthine reached Oliver's side with a prideful smirk, taking a gander at the third floor's wooden-log walls and landscape paintings. "Kid's a couple decades young for my liking, truthfully. But I'll never turn down a gift."
"Kid?" I let go of Amara at the top.
That guy had to be, like, thirty.
Pocketing her mirror, the glamour mage ushered us down the inn's hall, past forest-green lanterns and acacia doors. Being an Amethyst Residency inn, the place was ridiculously huge - modeled to resemble an inviting cabin in the heart of the wilderness.
"Ah, and one thing," she finally stopped at a wreath-covered door. "When I said I brought with me all I care about, I meant every word."
"…Meaning?" I asked.
Cynthine smirked. "Seeing trumps listening. And is always more entertaining."
Before I could put a finger on the suddenly-ominous atmosphere, she pressed open the door. Domain-lit darkness swept before us. Within its thick murk, over twenty infernal eyes lit me aflame. Terror ripped a gasp out of me.
One of the demons meowed. Then four others. Then a cascade of feline voices came pouring toward us. Or rather, Cynthine.
"Kitties!" she dove inside, arms wide. "Mommy's home!"
Y-you gotta be kidding!?
—————————————————————————————————
Over gluttonous tails, I stared at the glamour mage across the fire-warm hearthside table. "Nope. No. No no no. Nuh-uh."
"What?" Oliver's eyes jumped from his half-finished plate, sitting at my left.
I shook my head. "No matter how many times I try to comprehend it, I can't figure why she brought all her cats to Selem City."
Cynthine forked a slice of sausage, sticking it aside to for Fynn to nibble. "What about 'most important belongings' fails to pierce that dense skull? No true mother would abandon her babies."
Didn't realize you were a Catfolk…
For the tenth time, Bow-Bow came over, sniffed my shin, gagged, and scuttled back to Amara at my right. I ignored it. "You didn't wanna leave these… animals, makes sense, but how'd you get them here? Belza Hill's several days away. Cats are jumpy. And I don't see any leashes."
"Oh, it was simple work: with treats, tender words, and patience, one can persuade kitties to follow to the edge of the world. Ah, and a dark art to soothe their fragile nerves."
"That still sounds like a load of- dark art!?" I sprung out of my seat. "You're a dark mage!?"
I startled anybody and every-cat in the room. Except Cynthine. "…Yes?" she sent me dubious glances while calming her pets. "Glamour magic is dark magic, although your agape jaw tells me this comes as news."
"Of course its news - why'd you never tell me!?"
"Quiet down," she lowered an even palm. "Truthfully, I never knew it was of interest. Elements hardly matter in my book."
My shoulders slowly relaxed. "…They do when you're in the Ordeals."
First Niles, now Cynthine? Shade, next I'll find out Amara's a dark mage.
The Knight - who'd already finished her plate and mine - blinked at me with soft eyes. "Sun above. The opportunity never arose for me to ask how the Sacred Ordeals went. How… bad was it?"
I sighed, and sank back in my cushioned chair. "Very."
Three pairs of eyes stared back at me.
"I'll, er… start from the beginning. Just… be ready for an Abyss of a lot of crazy."
—————————————————————————————————
"-scaled this massive tower… Shoved off by Niles… Hunted by dark mage objectors… Killed my kin in a desolate underground town… Failed to rescue a friend that could've been… Ripped an eye out of my socket and grew a third one… Merriline's a moron… Battled Hyland again… Dodged a lightning-quick sword-fetishist… Checkmated Niles by the illusory skin of my teeth… Met Judge Lucival and High Judge Obéline and King Jaspien… Bonded with a gryphon."
If I had real lungs, they'd have been raisins by the time I finished yapping. Same for everyone at the table, considering how long it'd been since they last remembered to breathe.
"Oh, right," I added, "and I decayed my staff to clinch that last win."
I lifted both halves of the once-weapon over the table. "See?"
Nobody spoke. They barely moved. Though the old witch did put a hand to her chest.
"Cynthine," I pointed, "this is the sixth time you've done that. Do I need to get a healer?"
"That was the sixth time I thought my heart would give out, listening to you!"
"I thought you liked morbid stories?"
"When they're far away! Goodness - you're no better than Ansel, applying close-shaves with death as if it were a razor!"
"It's not like I'm aiming to kick the bucket! My foot just… happens to swing for it. A lot."
She shook her head. "Do us a favor and try to reduce how frequently you nearly bite the dust. You should live well beyond me, not before."
"Miss Cynthine means to say she's happy you made it," Oliver covered, life returning to his ghost-pale face. "But… wow. So much happened while I was gone. I'm sorry, Skell. I can't reckon going through the Ordeals and all that on top. If people hated me just because I used wind magic, I don't know what I'd do."
My eyes dropped to my lap. "…It still stings. Knowing that even if I convinced Penelle, and Niles, there'll always be others. Hating me because of something I was born with. Magic I can't change."
But I put on a smile. "Good thing none of them are at this table. Just friends."
Oliver smiled. "Right!"
"Agreed," Amara added. She was happy for me. I could tell. Though something else nipped at her gaze, like icy teeth. "Aside from that, did… did all that truly happen with Commandant Karthwyn? The blatant persecution? The shadowy subterfuge?"
My grin hardened to a frown. "Down to the last detail."
Another wave of trouble rippled over her tired features. Very, tired features.
"Amara?" asked Oliver.
"S-sorry," she swallowed. "I… I should excuse myself. Better for sleep to take me in one of these nice bedrooms than the kitchen table."
"By all means," said Cynthine. "Rest is crucial for a lady as busy as yourself."
Oliver motioned to the doors - one in each corner. "Pick whichever room you want."
Amara rose out of her chair. "Merci. I'll… make good use of it, believe you me. Goodnight. Or, erm…"
"We know what you mean," I laughed. "Go ahead. Sleep."
A tired calm softened her face. "…Okay."
The Knight politely left the table, trudging for the closest door and shutting it behind her. And yet, that feeling of unfinished business kept her seat at the dinner table.
"Poor sis," Oliver looked away. "Hopefully she feels better tomorrow."
Cynthine, by contrast, looked straight at me. She knew something was up. Abyss, she knew ever since we met outside the Citadel.
Shrewd old witch…
Her lips didn't shift; her eyes said everything.
Do not let the day end before matters between you are put right.
That was my interpretation, anyway. And it resonated with me. Complex emotions had been suppressed inside my core, twisting and coiling into an ever-tightening knot. If I was going to move forward - if we were… it had to be unraveled.
I stood up. "Be right back. Just going to Amara's room real fast - I forgot to give her-"
"You don't have to make something up." Oliver smiled. "Just fix things."
E-Even he noticed?
Cynthine nodded. "Hurry along already. Clock's ticking. Squire."
"You…" Resolve sharpened my features. "Right."
Legs rushed from my chair. I was at the door. Knuckles rapped against its exterior.
"…Come in," she wisped from inside. "Skell."
I did as much, leaving Cynthine and Oliver one last appreciative glance before ducking inside.
—————————————————————————————————
Midnight purple. Blood crimson. Our eyes met from two ends of the room.
Amara's pressed deep in her sockets, just as she pressed deep into velvet pillows against her bed's headboard.
"…I know I'm interrupting your sleep," I finally scrounged up the sense to say. "Sorry."
"You're doing no such thing. I can't sleep. Too much clouds my mind." She exhaled. "…How's yours?"
"Empty as my skull is?" I pointed. "Nothing's in here but clouds."
She smiled weakly. I tried to match her. We could only maintain the look for a moment before they faded off our faces.
I turned to the pile of Templar plate in the corner. "Amara, I… I wasn't myself, under those archives. I was-" I stopped. "No. No crummy excuses. That was me. The worst of me. Life was on the other side of that door, and when I realized I couldn't have it… well, you know what happened. I won't rehash it. Just, you gotta know one thing."
Gentle steps pulled me closer to her bed. "I do care. About your dream. That offer, of being your training partner? Helping you build that strike force to save people all across Lumerit? Leaving no one behind? Every word came from my soul."
She pressed fingers over her lips. I'd almost forgotten how her hands looked, when not buried under so much cold metal.
"…I know. I know that moment was the hardest revelation you've ever faced. And I know I should've been a better companion. Death is a fate I can't conceive of. Forgotten? Despised? I'd shed it at all costs. Then to see seven years separate you from salvation… forgive me."
Red veins streaked across her eyes. Not just from insomnia. "I was too selfish to see that hiding the truth would only deepen the knife. What sort of Knight could I be, to allow you to be hurt so deeply?"
Her face pinched; tears were choked back. But I was there, standing beside her. She looked up at me… and relented enough to let a single drop fall.
"I care too… Skell." Amara's voice cracked. "I'm glad you came."
I didn't fare any better. "Me too."
Abyss, I didn't know if it was the right move, but I leaned down and hugged her anyway. She didn't protest. No…
Her arms wrapped around my back. Like when she learned I'd beat the Ordeals. But without shame. Like when we embraced Oliver. But just us. Affection pulsed between her heart and the one I'd regain. Devotion. We traded stains on the shoulders of our shirts and didn't care one bit.
Then her breaths steadied; the sharpest thorns of my pain subsided. And for just a moment… that distant future didn't feel so far away.
Some time later, we pulled away. My arm still hung to hers. "We'll figure this out, Amara."
"We will," she nodded resolutely. "Your dream and mine; we will have them both!"
I let go, and dropped down to the purple-red carpet. It was surprisingly comfortable. Especially when I laid against the mattress-side.
Then I looked to my left. After neverending night, more than stray morning rays slipped through our window; the sun itself vaulted over the horizon and shined through the glass. Warm. Delicate. Hopeful.
"Soon, I'll have to get back to the Citadel, huh?" I asked. "Can't miss class. Learning about undead, I figure. Though I bet I'll have a femur up on the rest of the Squires."
No laugh.
"Yeah, okay, sure - not that funny, but it least deserved one of those quick nasal exhales. Right?"
Not even a quick nasal exhale.
"Amara?" I looked up.
But there was a snore.
Serene, sun-softened peace washed over the Knight's smiling slumber. Equally soothing shadow weaved across the contours of my own face - pointing away from the window.
From here on out, we're in this together. For the long haul.
I pulled up the blanket and tucked her in. Sweet dreams, Amara.
The purple-red carpet caught me softly as I lowered back onto it. Now, the rising sun could shine upon me in full force. I lifted a hand in the path of its light, and in that umbra, I saw a dream. A dream of light and dark, striving in tandem.
To shape the other's world into one where our deepest desires could become a shared reality.
And sweet dreams… me.
Post-Ordeals Arc - End