Dying World, Lasting Bonds

Sometimes, the world could end more than once. For Lennac, it was the case.

     Within a single day, he would have seen the world get obliterated, and along with it all he had built there. He would also have seen disappear before his eyes the one representing what most precious he had. The one who tended what no cure could heal.

     He had seen her plunge to the brambles below, had shouted her name to the point his voice broke. Hoping that she would come back. Or that she would take him with her.

     Until the very last second, he screamed her name. A name which had made him smile each time he had uttered it.

     The sorcerer held back Gretel to hinder her from following Kemishi. The little fairy struggled as if his hands were burning her.

     Lennac’s sight became blurry.

     It was like starving for air. It was like having glass shards stuck in his throat.

     She wasn’t there any more.

     She gave way to a wave that was rising towards them. A mass of azure water upon the surface of which glimmered lavender and orange reflections followed dusk.

     When he felt the water pulling the ship’s hull, seeking to take it far away, he made a few steps back. Haggard. Letting himself fall to his knees against the deck. Raising his eyes with a mere absent look as he felt a few droplets cooling his face.

     Not him alone. The other members of the crew ended up sprinkled with a thin shower having escaped the wave. All the ones who had been hurt in the chaos beheld, astonished, their wounds subside. Even Lennac’s eye – the one of the colour of rivers – gradually became tinted, spot by spot, until they retrieved their original hazel colour.

     The brambles which should have reached them only passed through the mass of water. Falling back against the ground, they began to undulate along the others. Like so many snakes tightly clamped around this world until compressing, choking it.

***

There was a cracking of wood as the brambles shattered the Loireag house, at the top of the previously protected mountain.

     Though more than that, it was soon the whole mountain itself which caved in. As weakly as a common mound of sand giving way under the water. The remaining grains then burying alive these among the Bergfolks who didn’t want to embark the Fairy’s Hope. Too tied to their creations to abandon even one of them. Preferring to dedicate themselves until the very last moment to new crafting in their workshop.

     In the hollows of the mountain, nobody heard their screams.

***

Bramble after bramble, the Gyre Carlin turned them into swarms of spiders and toads. They burst, one after the other, failing to reach the queen of dark elves. Failing to pierce the recalcitrant one. They burst, spilling sheaves of thronging animals. Bunching, tripping over themselves… until ending by burying the witch alive.

     Soon, only one of her hands protruded while the brambles until now repelled enclosed, their thorns shredding all of that teeming mass.

***

Of the places they had travelled by, nothing was left. Not even a petal, a menhir, a skeleton.

     Of the lands devoid of souls of the deceased, there was not a single mushroom left whose shape could be recognised. The last having bloomed, floating like jellyfish, were swept away by the thorns. Letting the souls’ fragments which enlivened them scatter in the thin air.

     Like swarms gnawing on a corpse’s skin, the brambles wouldn’t even let its landscapes to this world.

***

Leant against the wall, his fingers covered with bandages were uptight, mid-buried in his hair. His arms pressed against his legs, the High Priest was sitting at the bottom of the basement lit by the ruddy glow of feathers. The phœnix laying on the ground.

     Trails of dust spewed out of the ceiling, threatening to give in at any moment.

     In the end… all of that they had done held no meaning. All these sacrifices… for nothing to change. All these lives lost… they would have ended up by being so. But they could have been in another way.

     He pressed his fingers tighter against his head when he felt something warm. He heard a faint crackling not far from his ear.

     Slowly, the High Priest raised his head.

     What he couldn’t see, he felt. The warmth of the wing the phœnix had spread over his head. This so comforting warmth.

“Come closer, Oswynn…”

     His features began to shiver as he heard the voice of the creature.

     When the ceiling gave way, that the brambles pierced the walls, he was nestled against his wing. As when he was a child.

***

When all the trees of the forest were uprooted, all the crystals broken, the concentrate of magic they contained leaked through the thorns. Slipping between the brambles until it reached the sky’s freedom.

     The Fairy’s Hope, which the waves had released to give it back the support of the wind, found itself bathed in the reassuring radiance of this diffuse magic. It scattered under the form of a glittering snow, falling to the stars.

     Small bells sounds.

     On both sides of the ship, figures of some Sluaghs. These elves as light as the clouds. Among them, Almes and Fyor. The latter glanced at the ship, his gaze compassionate.

     On the deck, it was hard to rejoice despite their escape.

     Tomoo had taken off his hat, keeping it firmly against him, his head lowered. Useless to precise that Gretel spluttered, crying.

“What happened…” Lennac whispered.

     The sorcerer made, at last, a few steps in his direction. The effect of these curious droplets had not escaped him. And, to be honest, he already had his own idea.

“It’s probably what remains of Kemishi. All those who were touched by these drops could see their wounds heal. You as well, you’re healed, aren’t you?”

     It seemed senseless. If she had been to heal him, she would have done so before. Still, as Lennac made an effort to stand up, he had to admit it. He didn’t feel weakened any more. At least… Not in the same way…

“It’s impossible… Kemishi’s tears can’t heal.”

“I don’t doubt that. Things do not work the same way for half-blood creatures. But don’t forget she is also an undine.” Henox added. An undine’s body is made out of water. If her tears are not what can heal, then it may be something else.”

     At last, Lennac turned towards him. He couldn’t answer him, otherwise his voice would have failed. Though there was no doubt that he understood.

     As the Fairy’s Hope flew towards the first raising stars, accompanied by its peculiar escort, the sorcerer was thoughtful.

     He had one last thing to do. A decision he was at last ready to undertake.