Return to Confront

The silence of Orion’s room was a heavy, brittle thing. The only sound was the humming of his own thoughts. Soft ticking like that of a clock turning inside his mind.

He sat by the window, elbows on his knees, his mace leaning quietly against the wall beside him. His shield was on the table, cold from the ritualistic steel. The faint glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the panes, casting fractured rainbows on the floor. The same stained light as the cathedral, he thought.

He hadn't moved much since returning. Not even to change out of his torn priest garb, crusted with soot and dried blood at the edges. He hadn't spoken. Hadn't eaten. He only sat.

And here, he began to remember.

His mind turned first to his childhood – back when the word ‘Chosen One’ was still a promise, a celebration. Back when his name was spoken with awe, not fear. He remembered riding through the golden fields of Soluna, the wind tugging at his hair, his friends laughing beside him.

His old friends, the five... and Sky – she was there, with her quick tongue and quicker blades. She was never the strongest of them, but she held them all together. And more importantly – she held him together.

For as long as she could anyway.

He closed his eyes. The world was warm there, in memory. A simpler time, basking in the glory.

But even those once-vivid moments now seemed… distant. Like faded paintings under layers of dust.

And then – like a tide swallowing everything, the memories of Earth returned. Quiet dinners. The quiet walks. How they spent time reading together, just talking about anything he saw popping up. Her laugh, her loud alarms, the scent of gardens lingering around her. Then there was the rainy afternoon they got caught in, huddled under one umbrella. She had to show him how to even open the mechanism.

It hadn’t been long. Not compared to the ages he'd spent waging holy wars and walking through shadows. A few months...

So why was it all he could think about?

Why, in all his long life – after all the battles and all the titles and all the songs – why... could he only think of Emi during these moments when the subatomic strings sang no songs?

He put his head in his hands.

He hated that he didn't know the answer.

He hated that part of him still hoped.

And then...

A voice:

“ORION!”

The voice rang out across the courtyard like a bell forged from fury.

Orion blinked, sitting up. He turned to the window. And there, standing at the edge of the courtyard in the dying light – was someone who Orion immediately recognized.

He rose slowly, reaching for his mace, letting it unfold with a hiss of compressed magic, and slipped the round shield back onto his wrist. No words. No expression. Mere resolve.

Down the stairs. Through the empty halls. Past cracked walls and flickering candles.

And now out the front doors.

There he was.

Terran.

Standing tall, the elf held his two swords in both hands, wearing a fire inside his eyes. The dust of travel still fresh on his boots. Orion could hear the hunger in his steel as their eyes locked on one another.

The last time they truly fought, they were interrupted.

But now...

Orion stepped forward. His scarf trailed behind him like a shadow rebelling against the light. Finally saying:

“You came back.”

In Terran’s eyes, Orion understood immediately that this elf knew not how he was able to come home. He had no magick, no talents in the arcane. So the only explanation either of them could come to was one simple thing burning deep inside.

Hate.

No more words now. The two readied their weapons – and they commenced.

Emi walked alone across the quiet, grassy field, with her arms wrapped around herself, every step a slow, tired one. The wind tugged gently at her sleeves, and her breath came in shaky bursts as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

She had told herself she wouldn’t cry. Not again. Not after everything.

But the silence of the world was too much.

A silence that did not hold long, however, as the skies above finally broke.

A distant rumble trembled beneath her feet. At first growing subtly, like the growl of some ancient beast stirring in its sleep. Like a dragon perhaps, finally coming out of its lair to see the day it would be free.

But this was something much more – as thunders cracked through the heavens.

Bleeding the sky red.

Emi’s eyes widened as she turned, strands of hair whipping around her face. And behind her, far off in the distance, the castle where she came from loomed against the horizon.

Or at least, it should have.

Now it was half-obscured by a swirling black vortex growing out of the sky, tendrils of warping space clawing downward. Jagged lines of violent light tore through the clouds from strength obscured that only now finally revealed.

And she heard it.

The sound of the earth breaking.

Massive cracks split the land, spiderwebbing across the ground toward the castle like a warning. The tectonic plates moaned as if the planet itself were protesting.

This was it.

The end of the world – now resumed.

Emi stood frozen for only a moment. Thrown off her balance – but from within her heart, the conviction steeled itself into a focused realization.

Something that immediately urged her forward, now running back.

Back toward the castle. Back toward him.