Flickering Flame

*CRACK* *rumble, rumble*

Thunder rolled across the landscape, shaking the air within the stone shelter and stirring Ferris to wakefulness.

“!” Heat and sweat drenched her skin as she bolted up, breath labored with intensity. The warrior looked around her darkened surroundings, trying to gain her bearings after the half-memory, half-dream that had just plagued her.

Nothing but coolness, rain, and snores responded.

Her pulse began to slow.

It was dark still it seemed, night having settled in who knew how long ago, and the others remained fast asleep in their respective places around the shelter.

"…" The warrior's fingers clenched once she grounded herself, her thoughts wandering back to her dream and the defiled gem that’d given her a chance at life. It'd been a year now since that day, and yet the emotions of it were as real as when she'd experienced it.

The same heat, the same energy, it flickered within her like a withering flame with each heartbeat, magic and sheer force of will keeping her stable—keeping her her.

She’d done her best to research the strange relic in the time that she’d had it, but frankly, she still didn’t know much; the Adamantine was a warrior after all, not a mage. What she did know though, was that she’d hopefully be able to maintain her real self for a while longer, barring any additional pain or… emotionally straining events.

It was hard, having one's feelings and form in constant flux, all while something unknowable burned as the price.

The rumble of thunder echoed in the stone cottage before she could stray to any other potential detriments.

Hoping to distract her mind, her chest swelled with a breath of the night, looking out through the crystalline windows and at the dim canopy drenched in the sky's tears.

The group were still within the Arborweave, having left the sanctuary of Spielglave six days ago and setting up shelters like these along the way. The trek had been easygoing since then thanks to the enchanted stagecoach Larkspur had gotten his hands on, with the only 'challenging' task preventing him and Durma from getting at each other's throats—a feat not made too easy with the alchemist's insistence on pranking his 'best buddy'.

Now? The warrior was just trying to enjoy the company, the banter, and the atmosphere of old bonds renewed—especially with Citrine.

The woman in question was briefly illuminated by the flash of lightning through crystal-pane, her face soft in sleep as she rested beside the ogrelyn.

Ferris ran a finger through her hair and smiled.

Back when they'd still been fighting the Trueflame, the Diadem's stoicism had almost seemed unshakeable beneath the structure of her plans, yet here she was now, melting away beneath her gaze and touch.

It was still so strange to her, seeing the half-elf touchy, intimate, and finding excuses to get close often now.

"…" Guilt and concern swirled in the warrior's chest as her hand ran down to the half-elf's back, the woman murmuring something incoherent in response.

The past several days, Citrine had been having more pains, more instances of spacing out or grimacing the other way. She insisted she was fine, but…

Ferris lost herself in her partner's heartbeat for a moment: quiet, steady, comforting.

If it were just the curse they had to worry about, that would've been enough already. Yet the ogrelyn had another matter gnawing at her.

The mountains were almost here, and with it, the inevitable promise of her full truth. Even after nearly two weeks of traveling and growing closer to the shopkeep, she'd yet to find the right time or way to tell Citrine what was happening to her.

She knew it wasn't fair to continue like this, especially given the vow she'd made that'd initiated their relationship in the first place, but to let her know the full depths of the issue still felt so daunting, even if Citrine would probably understand her reasonings.

"…" She hoped so, at least.

The warrior's gaze flickered back to the rain and trees outside, intentionally losing herself in their beauty to drown out the thought. Even with the storm and the dimness of the night, the forest still held an otherworldly grace to it.

"…" Ferris's ears twitched as she noted a set of gem eyes peering at her from the darkness, the light of the moon catching them enough for her to see.

"Ah, hey Clunk," she whispered to the construct. "What's up?"

There was the muffled grind of stone as he tilted his head at her question.

"Right. Can't talk." She gave a wry smile, recalling her earlier attempts at conversing with her 'son'. "If you're worried about me though, I'm alright, just thinking."

The golem nodded, shuffling over to the edge of the bed as quietly as he could manage for a being of literal rock.

"…" Then placed a hand on her shoulder.

Her heart swelled at the cute gesture, an urge growing in her to hug the thing. "Thank you," the warrior responded, her voice low so as to not disturb the sleeping. "You're a real sweetheart, you know?"

*knock* His other stone hand rapped the top of his head, as if to deny it.

She giggled under her breath and looked away. "Thanks for humoring me by the way."

He looked at her, confused.

"Allowing me to play 'mother', I mean." A hand absently rubbed circles into Citrine's back as she spoke. "It's dumb, I know, but I appreciate that you let me do this."

Clunk's expression shifted to one she couldn't quite place. Then, the construct raised the hand that'd been on her shoulder, and patted the top of her head, gently ruffling her hair.

Despite the roughness of the stone, it somehow felt warm to the woman.

"…" She leaned into the contact, her chest tightening a little as she did.

It felt nice.

"I sometimes wish that we could've led a different life," Ferris eventually spoke, her voice a little thicker than she'd been prepared for. "That the world had set things up differently, so that we all met without the need to risk our lives and sacrifice ourselves to protect it. I wonder what that'd be like, you know?"

Her other hand smoothed over Clunk's arm.

"…To have gotten to know Citrine and the others without the burden of saving everything or being someone I'm not." She closed her eyes, trying to suppress the rogue thoughts that were threatening to overwhelm her. "But I guess that's just a dream. We have to live with the lot we're dealt, as crappy as it is."

"…" Clunk's hand fell, the construct no longer able to reach now that she'd straightened herself up on the bed.

Nothing but the rain and distant thunder rolled for a few moments.

"Sorry. Can't help my mind sometimes. It wanders places, especially when I'm trying to avoid a destination."

The construct didn't respond, instead, choosing to look out the window.

She sighed, doing the same.

"I'll tell her, no use in dodging the inevitable. I'm more of a blocker, anyway." Ferris smirked, the joke hardly lost on her despite the melancholy. "I'll do it tomorrow. I've put off having to deal with the aftermath of my mistakes for too long, and I sorta have to anyway with the mountains so close."

Clunk knocked his head again, as if to agree with her.

"Heh, you're so adorable." Her fingers reached forward and gently poked his 'cheek'.

The construct put its hands on its hips in indignation, the sight of which sent her back into another fit of quiet giggling.

"Alright. I should probably try to get some rest again before I wake the others—"

*ruffle*

Ferris glanced down, her words cut as the half-elf's arms wrapped around her waist, face scrunched in discomfort as she shifted to bury her face into her abdomen.

"C-Citrine? Are you awake?"

A groan escaped her, but no other response.

"…it…hurts…"

The warrior's brow dropped. Was she talking in her sleep?

"Citrine, what's wrong? Are you—"

She was interrupted by a sudden jerk of the half-elf's body and a sharp whimper, the sound bleeding Ferris' heart as the smaller woman curled into herself. Her face contorted in pain, and her limbs began to seize and tremble.

"!" The ogrelyn's eyes went wide as she pulled her partner closer, holding her tight as the convulsions continued. "Citrine! What's wrong?! Talk to me, are you okay?!"

The woman didn't respond, her voice barely escaping as muffled cries. At this point, both Larkspur and Durma had awoken to the ruckus, alchemist and druid rising from their respective places from the other side of the single room cottage.

"Ferris, what's happening, dear?" Larkspur asked, any daintiness in his tone dropped at the sight. "I-is Citrine alright?"

She shook her head, worry and fear flooding her. "I-I don't know. I thought she was just sleeping, but then suddenly, she started shaking like this and—"

Before the warrior could say any more, Citrine's body abruptly fell back into the rhythm of peace, muscles slackening into the bed. Her pulse still hammered, and hurt lingered in her expression, but everything else simply stopped, as if nothing had happened in the first place.

The world gradually came back into focus for Ferris, the sound of the storm and the others filling the silence. Her eyes didn't leave the woman in her arms, however, too concerned that the slightest change would spell another episode of pain.

"Larkspur, Durma, do either of you know what's happening? I know she has her curse, but…"

"Let me take a look," the druid said, his voice low as his hand hovered above the half-elf's body. "I'm not as skilled with healing magic as lifeweavers are, but I can maybe get an idea."

She gave him space, her grip on her partner loosening a tad.

The man's eyes closed, and his fingers twitched as green light began to glow, the borrowed essence of nature gently caressing Citrine's form and seeking out its ailments. The air hummed until finally—

"Ah…"

"What's the matter?" Ferris asked, voice strained. "What do you mean by 'Ah'?"

Durma frowned, eyes still closed as he concentrated, as if hoping to find something different.

"Durma, dear?" Larkspur pressed, the tension in the room growing. "Is there something I may be able to do too? I still have my research on me, we could go over—"

The dwarf's hand withdrew, expression deepening with something Ferris didn't like.

"Tis hard to explain." His chest swelled, a sigh leaving him as his eyes opened. "But I don't believe there's anything that can be done."

The ogrelyn deflated, her gaze darting back to Citrine. "What do you mean? Is her curse accelerating?"

"Accelerating? But that shouldn't be right," Larkspur said, hurrying over to his pack. "I ran over the numbers many times before confronting our gem. She has another year left; I'm sure of it!"

The druid cleared his throat. "Sort of, it's a bit more complicated though—"

The alchemist hushed him, rummaging through his items, lavender braids frantically whipping about. "No. I'm confident I didn't make any mistakes. Perhaps your spell missed something, Durma?"

A cough. "Not saying you did, but that isn't even the issue." The dwarf waved his hands once he calmed both party members down. "I… think I know what's causing this."

Ferris's stomach churned. "Please, tell us. What is it?"

"…" Durma's eyes met hers, watered in a way that she'd never seen before.

"The leystone curse isn't the sole reason behind this."

"It's you, Ferris."