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Two weeks...two weeks Whispin time he'd been frozen in a moment, locked forever in a prison with no doors, no glimmer of light or hope. For two weeks, almost three on Aerdon, he'd been lost in his own grief, dead in body, alive in spirit...yet slowly dying.
Without a target, without someone to focus his Rage on, the flames of hate and malice had slowly snuffed, only to be replaced with a gnawing misery, a black abyss of pain and loss. He'd been in this place before, though not alone and before, he'd had to live. Mira had been too young, a mere child and not prepared to rule the Diirlathe. She'd been forced to grow up too soon, long before her Millenia Mark. He'd had to stay for her sake, despite it being a two-edged sword...and at the same time, had finally broken and ordered her to kill him.
She had not.
Now, there was no reason for him stay. Mira was old enough to rule now, for that matter, he had a son, Yarwin who could take the throne. It no longer mattered to him.
Yet he could. not. leave.
Death elluded him.
In the black void he was trapped in, Callan Blackthorn could find no way out. He was forced to linger on, aching to die, feeling the place in his soul empty where Crimson had once been. The only lifelines left him that he couldn't seem to sever, no matter how hard he tried, was that damned thread of jade and the odd bit of topaz.
Here, trapped in his own soul, Callan wanted to die. He wanted the pain to end, the fight to be over. He had known when Samara had come to him, he had known she was here, but nothing mattered any longer. He had given up fighting anything but the agonizing pain that constantly ate at the core of his soul.
For what seemed like endless eternity, he'd writhed and raged, screamed and mourned, he'd begged to be set free, and in the end was begging to be killed...and no one had answered him...
Until the stones had began to receed.
Chezlar felt a dilemma coming on. He had to get An’Thaya to S’Hea, if she didn’t Ground soon, her soul would reach a critical stage and the Amazon would die. Tay could hide the slow death from just about anyone else, but never from him. He watched Callan slump and begin to topple forward as the marble released him, the misery of the Dragon a palpable thing on the air.
As he considered what to do, the redhead in his arms stirred, her head lolling to the side to see what the Changeling was so interested in. Tension drew her body tight for a moment, then he felt her relax. For a moment the Amazon stared down at the Emperor, her eyes hidden from Chez, then tried to lift her head.
“An’Thaya?”
Turning at the sound of her name she met the liquid gold pools of Chez’s gaze, sensing the question in his voice, and nodded.
“All right then.”
His footsteps carried them down the vast length of stairs to the base, splashing into the shallow water still flooding the street from the continuously running broken fountain.
It was like waking from a long sleep filled with nightmares, worse than even being resurrected from the Illinsaad so long ago. The lancing pain of circulation suddenly restored, the shock of feeling air, humid and warm, fill his lungs and the feel of flesh replacing stone left him gasping for breath as his chest heaved involuntarily. The reverse process was more painful than the initial turning to stone, he's bloodstream had been flooded with numbing adrenaline, not so now.
As the last of the marble vanished, Callan's heavy form crashed to the flooded street with a splash of water washing over Chezlar's feet in tiny waves. He lay there, choking with the need to breathe again and trying to force his fingers to move. Black wings lay limp on the cobblestones and water rushed over one and eventually, the many nerves within them began spasming, causing the wide appendages to jerk occassionally. Old blood tinged the clear waters, Callan had still been covered in his own blood and self-inflicted cuts as well as the blood of every one of Haldanuru's followers, and only now was it being cleansed and carried away.
How long it was before he could voluntarily move, he did not know, nor did he understand who it was Chezlar had been holding. Callan had only had a glimpse of the tiny figure before he'd fallen. The entire metamorphesis back into his natural self had only taken a second, perhaps two. Trembling from the effort, the Emperor dragged his hands under him, then managed to shove himself to his hands and knees and could move no further.
Chezlar Khor...
Topaz eyes made it as far as the Changeling's knees, "Chezlar...." That wasn't his voice, surely? It had all the warmth of sandpaper on stone, of rocks being ground together in someone's palm. "Chezlar Khor...." Callan forced his eyes filled with the shadows of endless grief and deep withdrawl from his bond to Agaru to lift upward to the burden the Messenger carried.
He couldn't finish his sentence, couldn't put together two sensible words through the fog of disbelief...and something else that was beginning...
Shame and self-loathing.
"Oh gods..." It was a strangled sound, little more and one that spoke volumes of his mangled emotions.
Endless hours with no one but Agaru for company in the dark had given An’Thaya insight on many things. Some, she had no wish to dwell on any further, but others… Others were right here in front of her, and despite her exhaustion and desperately weakened state, the guilt that twisted her insides took precedence. It was obvious, now, that Callan had never reached her children. Chezlar had, as usual, been watching over her.
Hollow emerald greens lifted from Callan’s pain wracked features to Chez’s ever stoic countenance. He hesitated a moment, then kneeled down, bringing An’Thaya to the Dragon’s eye level. Once there, any words she had thought to form faded from her mind. How did you say you were sorry for driving someone so far over the edge? Especially when that someone had gone out of their way to save your life.
You gave them what they needed most.
A dirty, blood streaked hand reached out to tentatively touch Callan’s wet cheek, the eyes that studied him filling with shadows as they shifted to the deep facets of Agaruloki’s gaze. A feathering of crimson scales brushed from the outer edges of An’Thaya’s almond shaped eyes to her temples, blending into flame red, short-cropped curls. It was the most the pair could manage in the way of a shift at the moment.
Callan? The Crimson’s voice was unusually small and still tinged with fear and Chezlar had to shift his weight to compensate as she lurched unsteadily towards her mate, nearly tumbling out of the Changeling’s embrace. Oh Gods… I’m so sorry!
A choked and muffled sob wracked Callan's chest as he pressed his face into her palm and let his eyes slide shut. It was Agaru, by whatever blessings had brought she and her skinwalker back; it was she, his M'Tashnae. Her voice was unmistakable, regardless of the battered and bruised form that touched him now. Gods...how many people would pay to see this moment? The arrogant laid so low, near weeping and still, despite what he could and feel, still disbelieved?
"For..." his voice cracked, forcing him to swallow hard before he could speak further, "for what? For trusting me? I lied to you, Agaru."
He pulled away from her and sank back on his heels, then looked up at Chezlar, then back at the trembling Amazon with the eyes of his Crimson, "I told you...I told you if I lost you, it would mean the end of me. I lied to you. It wouldn't be the end of me. It would only mean I'd become who I once was. Who I still am. I just wouldn't be able to pretend anymore."
“I don’t want you to pretend,” Agaru protested vehemently, the effort sending An’Thaya’s body into a coughing fit that left her lips coated in blood. “I don’t want you to be anything less than what you are, and if that was you… do you think I’d love you any less? I’m sorry for leaving, I’m sorry for not understanding. I didn’t know. It seemed a simple choice between protecting her, and asking you to love me enough to respect the choice I made.” An’Thaya’s mouth curved in a rueful smile, “I told you once, long ago, I have very little understanding of love.”
“Callan,” Chezlar’s soft tri-tones interjected, “I hate to interrupt, but if I don’t get An’Thaya to S’Hea soon, they’ll both die.”
Callan's bloodshot eyes went to Chezlar once more and the weakened Emperor nodded slowly, "Aye...I understand, Khor..." his eyes went back to Agaru and fingers that would be strong again cupped her chin and fanned out under her jaw as his thumb stroked away the crimson elf blood on her lower lip.
When he spoke again, the words were slow, deliberately chosen and spoken in a quiet tone that sounded little like his usual strong, thick accent.
"Yes...that was me...is me. That is the me I don't like overly well...because that is the me that I'm the most comfortable with." He paused and gave a short nod, "And you weren't exactly falling over yourself to enjoy my company either, if you don't mind me saying so." A weak, rueful smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, "And you...you made the same decision I would have made, if in your place, Agaru. The same decision I would expect you to make again...only..." Callan's topaz eyes searched her faceted emerald, "next time, at least give me the option of going with you if you MUST go...give me the chance to make decisions of my own free will, Agaru...not because I can't stop the avalanche."
He released her gently and pressed both palms to his water and blood soaked thighs as he rocked back on his heels once more and nodded up at Chezlar.
"Take her...she needs to be home...she needs to heal."
His next words were spoken softly, along the paths of Speech, "We'll have time...later...for each other. Someday...we'll have time to for you to understand better."
Agaru’s expression was one of profound relief, softened by love, and a hand reached out for Callan, brushing through his short-cropped hair as Chez rose up. She was still looking down as the dragon’s presence faded, leaving Tay looking down at the Black, the depths of emerald greens unreadable.
He swept out of her line of sight as her Guardian turned, stepping out of the water and onto the stairs. The Amazon shut her eyes and gave into exhaustion. “Shut them off.” The words were a soft plea as Chezlar carried her away from Callan and Tay’s fingers tugged at the Changeling’s shirt. “Please? I can’t let them see me like this.”
Her bonds were near painful and the thought of Galain, Adarin or Jaiden seeing her this way was too much for the Amazon to bear. It had taken the last of her dwindled pride to face the Dragon Emperor, she couldn’t take any more.
Chez’s answer came in peaceable silence, the connections to Tay’s soul muffling as they disappeared in a shower of essence.
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