Eco Severin

When Lavenza returned to the entrance of the temple, the sky had darkened. Richard waved to her from a flickering campfire on the edge of the plateau. He and Horse rested there cuddling for warmth beneath a heavy duvet.

“Is it over?” he asked.

“Not yet,” she replied. “There’s one more thing to do.”

Lavenza turned her attention back to the temple.

“Aphelion. Grixys. Pelagia. Asta Kavan Antigonus.”

For the final time, Lavenza raised her staff into the air. The magic of the ley lines that she had so carefully curated over campfires and within dank inns spiraled forth from her staff and enveloped the temple in crisp, pleasant lights.

From within her spatial pocket, Antigonus’s heart emerged and soared above the temple and swirling magics. With no Endire and no hint of Aparthia’s sister moons, the heart of stone, illuminated now by the gleam of precious gemstones, overshadowed the plateau like the visage of a third, undiscovered moon.

Lavenza breathed deep, as if breathing the last breath for all Aparthia, and exhaled the next two words.

“Eco Severin.”

The combined powers of the Aphelion, Grixys, and Pelagia Ley Lines rushed into Antigonus’s heart. The stone glowed a brilliant white, bright enough that Richard could not stare directly at it. Its form expanded. Its enlarged body rose, rising in the manner of a king, a new sun.

For a moment, the skies above Aparthia returned to normal. The clouds drifted onwards, and the stone painted the morning sky the color of ripe tangerines.

Then, the heart burst and the radiance that had torched the sky fell again and washed over the temple. The bronze dome glistened an irregular hue, and then bronze was no longer bronze but gleaming marble. Alabaster sealed the oculus and rooftop windows. Granite and limestone fortified the mud brick walls and swept across each faded mural.

And at last, the light of Antigonus’s heart converged on the metal gates. The stones across the temple swept into place, lining every crack, every pocket, until all traces of the Menuan temple and the Whispering Chamber vanished below a monument of stone.

“Is that…?” Richard asked. “That’s—”

“That’s right,” Lavenza gasped. “It’s the petrification, the petrification of the Abyss.”

“You petrified her?”

“I petrified the Whispering Chamber,” Lavenza fell to her knees. “The Endire’s petrification will not reach her now. It can no longer touch the chamber.”

Richard rushed to Lavenza and picked her up. Her hands had turned cold, her face as pallid as limestone. He carried her over to the fire and pulled the duvet over her body. He handed her a flask to drink from.

“Is it over now?” he asked.

“Yes,” Lavenza sighed. “It’s over.”

The sky darkened again. There was no brilliance left of Antigonus’s heart, only the aegis that Lavenza had erected between the end of the world and the Whispering Chamber.

“That was a Miracle, right?”

“Yeah,” Lavenza chuckled. “Weird, isn’t it? A Miracle that saves just one person.”

“It’s not just one person,” Richard said. “It’s your person.”

“Right,” she nodded. “Right. Maybe there’s room for a some more magic.”

Lavenza shifted her hands out of the duvet and twirled them in the sky.

“Nevos.”

Bright orbs bloomed out of Lavenza’s finger tips. They settled over the fire, then swirled around Richard and Lavenza, dancing to music that no one else could hear. They avoided Horse. The beast looked like he wanted to eat them.

After a while, the orbs drifted towards the temple. There were dozens of lights and each found a resting place somewhere within the petrified stone.

One by one, the lights flickered out.

“What were those?” Richard asked.

“They’re fireworks, I guess,” Lavenza smiled. “Courtesy of the Midevening Star. It’s for Seline. For me and you. For Deme.”

“A bit early for a celebration, don’t you think?”

“Oh, they’ll set off again, I hope. In ten thousand years or so. On the day the Whispering Chamber reopens.”

“Don’t you wish you had shown her this, before she left?”

“She’ll see them again,” Lavenza murmured. Then, as if she had to reassure herself, she added. “She’ll see them.”

“You said goodbye, right?”

She paused. She rewound the conversation in her mind.

“I didn’t,” she realized, “but she did.”

“Lavenza.”

“It's alright, Richard,” she laughed. “Not all our feelings can be expressed with words. She knows how I feel.”

That was the moment the dam inside her crumbled.

Lavenza let out a deafening wail. 

Richard froze at first, but swiftly moved beside her and offered his shoulder to her. Lavenza ignored it, pulled the duvet to her face and stayed there for a long time.

Time passed in the interval of muffled cries.

The fire dwindled. The roaring flame became embers and embers became cinders. The Endire became nothing more than a faint outline, like a sketch of a circle on an uneven canvas.

A cold frost drifted above the plateau. It was followed by a wind that swept away what remained of the campfire. Horse sniffed the air. The beast rested its legs beneath its body and lowered its head. After all, there was nowhere left to go.

Time passed further, and then even further. In all the time that passed, Richard stayed silent and watched over Lavenza. Even as the warmth in his feet ran cold, or was it the beginnings of the petrification already? Richard did not check. He only looked at Lavenza.

He kept vigil for a long time.

“Richard?” she finally said.

“Yes?”

“I feel a little cold. Can you hold me? Just for a moment.”