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The skyline was ablaze as the second sun slowly dipped behind the ridge of mountains visible from Y’Roden and Silverthorn’s chambers. The S’Hean King had watched the slow decline of both from where he stood, one muscular shoulder leaning up against the doorframe leading onto the balcony. He had put it off as long as he could, but with the dipping of the yellow sun beyond his view, the half-elf had sent for Brandubh and Mira Badb Catha.
His heart seemed to be following the same path as the red flaming orb that threatened to slip from beyond his gaze, sinking ever lower… and giving the illusion of setting everything it touched aflame. Sacrificing itself to the night. Y’Roden was familiar with the act… how many times had he given himself up to the darkness to preserve the light? How many times had he given his heart so that others could have what would make them complete? So that others could live.
It was all a fair trade, redemption for horrific acts committed as the Demon Elf. Perhaps… this was the Fate’s way of telling him that debt would never be fully paid. That the amount of blood spilled, the number of lives destroyed and taken was too great to ever allow him a sense of peace. It burned… and it ached… and he knew it was right… and he knew Silverthorn would never forgive him.
A soft knock sounded at the door of the chamber, then opened quietly before the King could respond. "You sent for us?" Bran asked, his arm about his wife's waist. The expression in his jade eyes was wary as he looked over at his brother-in-law. Something about the wording of the message that had brought them here bothered him, something about how little was being said about why.
Stepping into the room, he looked about automatically for his sister, surprised to not find her with her husband. A sudden in-drawn breath was his only response to the sight of her lying far too still in the bed, the gaze swinging back to Y'Roden with a silent demand for answers.
“She is sick,” Ro’s voice was monotone, “she is dying in fact… and there isn’t a damn thing the healers can do for her.” He really didn’t see the point in dancing around the facts, there wasn’t time for that… he had waited too long already. Turning away from the balcony he met Bran’s gaze for a moment, then let emerald gem’s slip to Mira’s jade green eyes.
“I am going to ask you to help me,” it was hard to get the words out, and his baritone cracked with the effort, “I have no where else to turn. I can’t do it on my own, not without killing us both.”
Mira's gaze was torn from Silverthorn with Y'Roden's words. There was something horribly wrong in seeing Arianne laying there like that. The raven-haired woman had always been so strong, both of will and body, and to her like this...
"Y'Roden... I can't... My Silver blood can't even help me heal this, I..." Mira's eyes darted to Bran, then back to Silverthorn as she gave her husband a squeeze on the arm and pulled free to settle on the bed next to her sister-in-law, "This is beyond my gift to repair," Strong but tender fingers rested against Thorn's cheek, then slid across her forehead, "Whatever it is it's..."
Mira's body went deathly still as she looked on Silverthorn's face, Y'Roden wasn't asking to have her body healed...
The Tapestry must be unravelled...
A sudden burning came to the dragon-elf's eyes as her head slowly turned and she looked at Y'Roden from the corner of her eye over her shoulder, "That's not what you're asking of me, is it? Surely you don't ask me to tear apart what the Gods and Fates permitted be woven together?" Astonishment and not a small amount of... fear? surprise? horror? laced her words as the dropped to a whisper, "Tell me that's not what you ask of me."
The nerve in Y’Roden’s jaw jumped, tension apparent in his features as he looked away from those piercing jade eyes, then slowly dragged his gaze back again. “I’m asking you to save her life,” the words were rough with emotion, and the half-elf’s fringe of chestnut hair vibrated between his eyes. “She is bound to me, and it’s killing her Mira. I can cut the lifeline myself, the rest… you have to do it; there isn’t any other choice. Time is running out.”
"Save her life?" Mira's fingers tightened over Silverthorn's forehead as she stared at Y'Roden D'riel as though she'd never seen him before, "My gods. Y'Roden are you insane? You're asking me to rip her soul apart. I might as well cut her heart out and heal the wound." She cast a near-wild glance at her husband, then at Y'Roden and realized he was deadly serious, "This is madness... you are asking me to go against everything I am to uphold as a SoulHealer. What you ask of me, will alter her soul forever and send it down a path it was never intended to travel. So what if it saves her life NOW? Do you... Have you even remotely considered the long term consequences?" The dragon-elf was aghast, completely horrified. A bonding of two souls was something sacred, something that once broken could send the other into insanity, grief, Madness and despite the fact Thorn wasn't of the Kin, she could still suffer a similar illness as the Grieving Madness.
"Why? Why must this be done? There has to be a cure...a way around this. There has to be another way."
“If you do not do this,” Y’Roden whispered, “there will be no long term consequences. The dead have no future. S’Hea is dying… I am dying, The King is the Land, the Land is the King.” His laugh was nearly hysterical, “I look at her now and see where I’ll be when it breaks down my immune system… you see, I’ve noticed something, the deeper the tie to the land, the faster the illness eats through your flesh.”
“I’ll not take Arianne with me. If you have a problem with cutting the threads, I’ll do that part myself, you can perform the healing when I have finished. Then, you will take her from here, as far from Whispin as you can take her, where the Aethyr cannot reach. We cannot ground, we watch every step, we keep the S’Hean people close to Nenlante and hope the Black Death does not find its way to our doorstep… but sooner or later it will… sooner or later.”
Astounded, Mira forced her mouth to close and locked her eyes on Bran. Her mind began running tight circles as she followed the paths of logic. Her thoughts snatched onto the notion that the more tied to the land one was, the faster it worked....
"Tay... Merciful Brighid..." Her thoughts then traced the memories of the healing that had been done to the Amazon's soul... all that had kept her from dying once was the cord of black wrenching her dying soul back in place and anchoring forever in an endless figure-eight. Two souls had become one, an impossible melding that could never be broken but by one thing.
Death.
"Callan... all of you.... I... Bran?" Her soul floundered and clung to Bran's. There had to be a solution, anything but this... suddenly Mira Badb Catha felt so very helpless and tired.
“An’Thaya is alright… for now,” Ro said in an attempt at reassurance, “as long as Callan holds the D’Riel Emerald, it will sustain them both.” The half-elf finally moved forward, seating himself on the bed and taking Silverthorn’s hand in his own. “An’Thaya can never set him free to save him, you know my sister would if it were possible… and you know better than anyone, that it isn’t. This is all I have to give Arianne… she’ll not thank me for it, I know this, but I couldn’t live with myself if she died, not when there is something I can do to prevent it.” The look he gave Mira was pleading, “Please… help me to set her free.”
"Free?" Bran's voice was harsh, his hand tightening on his wife's shoulder as his brother-in-law's words sunk in. "Free? You could cut her loose, banish her completely, and she would never be free. She loves you, more than anything and anyone else. You know that as well as I do. Badb Cathas love, truly love, once in a lifetime. That is just the way we are. If you think that she would not return as soon as she was able, before she was able, you're fooling yourself." Jade eyes met emerald. "Ro, please. You'll tear her apart. To sever your bond is bad enough, I know how much that will hurt her, but to send her away as well... to have her wake up and for you to not even be there..."
“Do you think I don’t know that?” the half-elf asked in a low tone, “do you think I would do this if I thought there was any other possible way of saving her life? I can’t watch her die, I won’t let it happen… and if Thorn survives this illness, she may be the only parent to any of our surviving children. I’m deadly serious Bran; you haven’t seen what this sickness can do. I watched it try to consume An’Thaya from the inside out… Just… don’t argue with me, help your sister.”
A muscle twitched in the fair-haired elf's jaw, anger flaring in his eyes. "Aye, I'll help her," he bit out, "if she survives, bearing in mind the state she's in now suggests that she possibly won't survive the shock you seem so desperate to put her system through." He could understand the King's dilemma, but at the same time Silverthorn was his sister, and if they saved her body only to lose her mind... What use then would she be to her children? "But if you want to cut the ties you'll do it yourself. You're not getting Mira to do your job for you. This is your choice, not hers. You have to face the consequences."
“Didn’t I just say I’d do that part myself?” Ro snapped, “perhaps you’d just prefer I let the Black Death take her, then you can watch her decay from the inside out as she screams and thrashes helplessly in vain. Would you like that better? And if you were so Gods Damned worried about her surviving the shock, you’d be more willing to HELP me cut the bonds so it isn’t so bad. Tell you what, why don’t you just get the hell out and forget I asked. Thaya did so well severing her bonds by herself, I’m sure I can at least match the consequences.”
"Stop it. Both of you." Mira's voice was quiet, yet cut through the air with a tone of authority. During Y'Roden's and Bran's brief argument, her fingers had been stroking Silverthorn's face with all the tenderness of a worried parent to their child, "I'll do it, Bran." Her face tilted up, and from the set of her facial features, there was no room for further discussion. Strong but elegant fingers covered Bran's hand at her shoulder, "I'll do it all. I'll sever the lifeline. I'll break the bond."
The Dragon-elf swallowed hard, then cleared her throat softly, "To let Y'Roden do this on his own is to send them both to their deaths, Bran. It would be like asking an injured warrior to sever a limb with a dull dagger, while a perfectly capable surgeon and healer stood by, ready to patch him up. Would you ask him to do what An'Thaya did? To break it all on his own? It almost cost me my life to draw An'Thaya back from the edge... and without Callan to anchor her, we would have both been lost. It would be not different with Y'Roden, but for him, there is no lifeline, no secondary bond to a skinwalker within him."
Her husband looked away from her, shoulders slumping with something close to defeat. "You will do what you feel you must, love. I know that. It's just..." His hand smoothed gently over his sister's hand. "She will feel as if we've betrayed her. That we've all betrayed her, you and I as much as Ro. I'm not sure I can do that to her, Mira. Even if she survives, there's no telling that her mind would survive that. Not so soon after everything else. If we save her only for her to close down completely what have we achieved? Really?"
Mira let a soft sigh slide along her soul and within, strands of silver and black caressed those of steel and living green. She hated Bran's tone, and body language...it was easier to deal with outright rage, she thought, than this.
"Hope. We achieve hope, Bran. Hope that she remains intact long enough for the land to heal, for Y'Roden to heal."
She didn't want to do this, and didn't want to destroy something so precious and rare. But she also didn't want to face something as terrifying and seemingly hopeless as Ro's sister's soul had been...much less two of them. And the truth was, she knew with or without her help...their help...Y'Roden would sever the bond. She'd delved into his soul before, she knew him well, and knew that she would rather face Arianne and her accusations of supreme betrayal than try to prevent her from dying on the operating table as it were.
With yet another hard swallow, she let her emotions flow into Bran's soul, for what good was a bond if the other hid emotion, fear, doubt and worry from the other? What good was it to share a soul with another, and not be willing to let their bond-mate 'see' into their soul? It wasn't an easy thing to contemplate, letting another see all, see your greed, lust and dark impulses, your victories that came at the expense of so many being hurt or your greatest shames, but all that was balanced by the knowledge there was also love, honor, loyalty, compassion and understanding.
Never again would she hide or willingly shut the bond down between she and her Vershan. And today, she would need him, need his strength of will to shore up her own, to give her courage and the ability to face what was next to come. Then, in the days to follow, she would need him there, for he was indeed correct. The storm of outrage and utter betrayal...and even hate...that would come in the wake of what was about to happen would be staggering.
The tension slid out of Y’Roden’s shoulders, only to be replaced with a heavy sense of immense grief. The expression that surfaced in emerald eyes as they met Mira’s gaze was agonized gratitude… like a terminal cancer patient facing the Doctor who would finally give him the blessing of a swift, peaceful death at the end of a needle. He swallowed hard and pulled his feet up onto the bed, bracing on one elbow as he let go of Silverthorn’s hand and cupped her face instead. Letting his forehead rest against hers for a moment, he just let himself breathe for the space of several long heartbeats… feeling them beat in perfect time with hers, how her soul felt within his and committing to memory the scent of her… something he knew so well… and never wanted to forget.
His lips brushed her forehead, burning against the fevered heat of her skin, and chestnut lashes were damp as he finally pulled back, not quite able to look at Bran or Mira. Instead, Ro lay back beside his wife, put his hand in hers, and closed his eyes. For a brief moment, the memory of pulling a fragment of his soul from another woman he had loved flickered through his mind… the intense pain it had caused. That would be a flash on the horizon compared to what he was about to experience… but that was ok… he was doing this for Silverthorn, even if she hated him for it in the end.
In silence, he let the conduit within his soul slide open, fed the Aethyr into his soul and let it burst into view. The great emerald galaxy swirling in stately grace above a silver flame, tendrils of both woven back and forth between them, strands of silver planted dangerously close to the conduit itself. It was beautiful... and deadly, the source of so much joy, and in the end, agony.
Bran sighed, drawing his wife close and kissing her on the forehead. "I'm here, I'm always here love," he murmured softly. His own eyes were damp as he looked at her, squeezing her gently on the shoulder. The fair-haired elf did not doubt that the half-elf loved his sister, the same as he did not doubt her love for him, but the sheer unfairness of it all made his want to scream with sheer rage. They had both been through so much and now this...
"Let's get this over with."
Lost in the darkness of her own mind, Silverthorn stirred slightly at a touch she would recognise anywhere, and even when close to dying her soul responded, silvery tendrils reaching out for the comfort of the swirling emerald galaxy.
"Even in the darkness, you'll never be alone again." The husky rasp of her husband's voice flickered through her mind, memory teasing at her. Scenes of love and laughter. Days spent in each others company. Nights spent in each others arms. The sheer joy at the birth of each child. Memories darkened, becoming ones of grief, of hurt, of anger. The pain of feeling her family slip away from her. The shame and regret of weakness and failure, of mental collapse. Yet through it all the simple pleasure in a smile, a look, a touch...
Lifting one of Silverthorn's hands he studied it, running his thumb along her lifeline. It was a strong, beautiful hand, oddly delicate in the typical elven way and slightly callosed from the use of weapons over time. Many people had met their deaths beneath its strength, but Y'Roden was aware how gentle it could be as well. He loved her hands, her touch, the fire the dark haired elf's fingertips brought to his nerve endings every time they touched his skin.
"So what do you see?" she asked softly. "You look almost like a fortune teller at a fair like that." She smiled slightly. The way his thumb rubbed over her hand sent a faint shiver of awareness along her nerves. But then his slightest touch always did.
Y'Roden smiled and kissed her earlobe, "Well dahling," he said in his best cheesy accent, "I see a long jooourneey, and a taaaaall handsome straaanger. Nooo... wait... not a straaaaanger, just a verrry straaaange maaan." He chuckled a bit, then traced his thumb down her palm. "Honestly," he said in his usual whispery baritone, "I see my future. You hold it right here in the palm of your hand."
She laughed at the fake accent he assumed. "Yes, a very strange man" she said drily. Her fingers closed around the thumb he was running over her palm. "If I hold yours, then you hold mine" she said softly. Releasing his hand, she turned in his arms so she could see his face. "And I never expected to have one" she continued, her voice almost a whisper. Her fingers traced down the side of his face for a moment and then she bent her head and kissed him gently. "For that alone, thank you."
Y'Roden's eyes turned a deeper shade of emerald, his soul shining through as he looked into Silverthorn's. "No need to thank me Arianne," he said softly, "You've become my life, I couldn't ask for anything more perfect than we have." The half-elf tangled his fingers into his bondmate's thick dark hair, "I've loved before, but not like this. You are so much a part of me I can't breathe when you're away from me, I can't think straight when you are with me. I want you every moment of every day, not to possess you, but just to feel whole."
For a moment she was silent as she looked at him, her heart in her eyes. The depth of emotion between them was enough to make her feel dazed. She had never loved like this before, had never imagined she could love or be loved like this. Her fingers brushed gently down the side of his face. "I could never have imagined I could feel like this" she said softly.
"Life's little surprises can sometimes be a good thing," Y'Roden said with a smile. "This definately counts as a good thing." His lips met Silverthorn's in a lingering kiss and his soul twined with hers. "I'll never quite know why you let me in, but I'm glad you did. I was afraid to try at first, you can be rather unapproachable at times," a soft chuckle escaped his lips, "Not to mention that you've been witness to some of my more inappropriate moments."
She smiled, "you're very good at inappropriate moments" the elf said with a laugh. "On the other hand you could say that my have witnessed some of them meant that I knew exactly what I was letting myself in for." Her fingers brushed through his hair. "As for why I let you in," her voice was soft, "the answer to that is simply that it felt right."
"I am aren't I," he snickered, "Wait, I'm not supposed to be proud of that am I?" Ro purred a bit as Silverthorn's fingers ran through his hair. "So you knew what you were in for and you still let me in, very brave lady." Stealing a kiss he smiled, "But I know what you mean about it feeling right."
"Brave or insane?" she said drily but then she smiled at him. "But I'm glad I did. I would have missed out on a lot otherwise." Her fingers threaded through his hair and she kissed him. It sometimes seemed that he was the other part of her soul and yet she hadn't even known it was missing until now....
Memories shifted, changed, the crackle of a fire replaced by the salt air of the sea...
“Everyone changes,” Ro’s chest rumbled beneath Silverthorn’s head as he spoke, “we are both growing, evolving, becoming something other than what we were when we began this life together. The point is, we are doing it together. I am here, by your side, every step of the way. I love you for who you are, who you have been, and who you will become… no matter what that is. Your abilities may change, your appearance may change… but you are still my Arianne. Nothing else matters to me but that… I just want to be here… to be with you, to watch you change and love you through it.”
He smiled softly, “Humans always treasure the thought of growing old together, of loving one another despite the changes. If Elves are suppose to be somewhat more enlightened creatures… can we do no less?” Tilting Thorn’s chin up Ro pressed his lips to hers for a moment, “You won’t grow old… but you will grow, and change… and that is the beautiful thing about it… eternity would be horribly dull if everything stayed the same.”
His wife's lips softened beneath his, a faint sound escaping her as the elf let her hand slide up Ro's chest to his shoulder. "Thank you" she murmured, "for being there for me. I don't know what I would do without you. Go crazy probably." Slim fingers stroked gently over his shoulder. "There are times when I don't feel very enlightened, just frightened. You're the one that stops that from overwhelming me. My reason for trying to keep going."
Silver tendrils reached out for emerald, the two souls swirling around one another as Silverthorn drew him closer and let him see the threads like molten gold that swirled through the silvery mist. They had grown so slowly that at first she had barely noticed, but now they were similar in thickness and number to the inky black filaments of her dark magic. A fact that had alarmed her greatly and had done nothing to ease her general unhappy state of mind. Now she stopped trying to ignore them, stopped trying to dampen the glow that suffused her skin as the sunlight warmed her. "I love you" she whispered...
I love you... The words were so simple and yet meant so much. Had they been said enough? She was dying, here in the darkness the dark-haired elf could accept that for death had never been an enemy to her. If she had one regret about the way things had turned out it was the hurt she had brought to those she cared about, especially her husband, however unintentional it might have been. "I love you. I will always love you."
The sorrow that Mira felt, at this very moment, was almost overwhelming. The moment a couple bonded was intensely intimate, beyond any physical joining, and a bond was a scared, holy thing, not to be destroyed but by Fate and Death. This was intercession, she told herself and something in her soul told her it must be done, but her heart was heavy.
A shuddering breath later, her eyes looked into Bran's and her hand patted the bed beside her, even as her fingers wound into Y'Roden's dark hair and the tips pressed gently against his scalp. The Dragon-elf's eyes drifted shut as she felt Bran's weight on the bed, and her fingers sought a pulsing vein somewhere beneath Ro's hair. Her other hand curled under Thorn's jaw and slipped to her throat, feeling for the pulse that beat in perfect time to Ro's.
One more deep breath later, her own heart rate began to strike the same time as the two benath her touch, and with a gentle exhalation, the SoulHealer stood on the plains of nowhere, before her stretched a sight only a few had ever seen, two souls woven together, one a whirling galaxy of stars... memories... and wisps of cloud... essence. At the center was a vortex of endless black... Y'Roden's conduit. Beside this was a nebulous tapestry of threads, all of them a minute, an hour, a day, in the life of Arianne Badb Catha. Tendrils of Thorn's soul were wound into the constantly spiralling soul of Y'Roden... far deeper than they were the first time Mira had tread this way. Something else was different now, something she'd not been a part of or privy to.
In all directions, so like a spider web, but by no means linear and flat, was a web of living Emerald green, each junction of threads a soul, a glimmer of life, and some of them were familiar to Mira, but most were not... The D'Riel web... and Mira stood with the Patriarch and his bond-mate right in the nexus of it. When last she'd walked this path, she'd not been a part of the Web, but one could never delve into a D'Riel soul as much as she had in the past, and not, eventually find a place on the Web that connected all S'Hean's to their King.
All things have a beginning, Y’Roden’s astral presence vibrated within his own soul, and Fate demands that they must all come to an end. The conduit slid open a little wider above the dancing silver flame of Silverthorn’s core, as the S’Hean King braced himself for what he knew must occur. Sometimes… love just isn’t enough, and if you try to hang onto it, you extinguish its flame. Help me let go…
Bran placed a hand at his wife's waist, careful not to disturb any of the three on the bed with his weight. Tears glimmered in his jade eyes, and he blinked, closing his eyes as he took a shaky breath. Through his wife he could see all that she could see, his own soul exposed to her as he lent her his strength for the operation that lay ahead. "Whenever you're ready," he murmured softly.
"Ready?" This was like gliding over a hurricane trapped in the center of a globe made of green crystal threads. All of them interconnected, all of them vastly important, all of them lent strength to the other and all of them began and led back to the Patriarch... Y'Roden. One wrong cut, one wrong move, and what seemed so strong would become horribly fragile. The entire structure could collapse in on itself like shattered glass.
"I'm not sure there's ever a ready Vershan."
Then, very delicately, her tendrils of Elvish green tinged with joy and love, reverence and adoration tangled with the threads of black in her soul... the Black blood in her, and then the SoulHealer, a mage of the 5th element, became a SoulRender, a destroyer of souls, an abomination to the Eldredae... and Y'Roden and Silverthorn's only hope.
With surgical precision, Mira's soul began to snip and sever parts of Thorn's silver soul from Y’Roden's. Every slice seemed to cause Silverthorn's soul to shudder and pull free from its moorings to Ro's like a mother oak having its roots cut. There was no tender way to do this, no gentle touch to ease the agony that was coursing through Y'Roden and Thorn's bodies and souls.
Agony lit up Y’Roden’s soul in flashes of brilliant lightening, the emerald stars throbbing with loss as each tendril was snapped… and with each one, a memory was triggered.
There would be no one else for him now. Y'Roden's soul reach out for hers, brushing questioningly against it.
The soft questioning brush of his soul against hers made her eyes lift to meet his. A gentle smile crossed her lips. "I love you," she said softly. This time there was no hesitation as her soul brushed against his.
Y'Roden's eyes sparkled; there was a certain joy there that no one else had ever brought to them. "I love you too," he murmured in response, the surging of his soul reflecting in his eyes. It seemed to soar and expand, the eddies and tides a riot of emerald green tones.
Their spirits embraced, his emerald to her silver, tendrils weaving together in a pattern that could never be broken. Part of him belonged to her now, and she to him. “Silmenya Falmarin...” His voice echoed directly into her mind this time, the bond complete.
The S’Hean King’s body arched, a strangled cry the only sound he made as his soul tried to twist and retreat away from Mira. It was a natural reaction of a Soul that knew what the severing of a deep bond meant. Death… a D’Riel soul could not survive the damage; the instability would send an entire galaxy whirling down into the conduit in a celestial storm.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the whisper of Samara’s voice, her laughter… You see… I always win in the end. Soon… I’ll be the only thing left… just you and me again, as it should be.
A silent scream echoed in the darkness, silver threads reaching out in pain and anguish towards the whirling emerald galaxy as they were severed from their moorings, desperately trying to hold on to what meant so much.
In that quiet moment Y'roden saw in Arianne's eyes what he felt in his own heart. Other's might say that true love was wanting the one you loved to continue on after you were gone, to find happiness in life. Yet, when you found the one thing that completed your soul such a thing had no place. If Silverthorn had asked him to go on after she was gone, she would have been condemning him to misery. With a soft smile Ro opened his soul to her and offered the final tie that could bind them together. A joining of their lifelines... if one should pass, so then would the other.
Silverthorn smiled gently, acceptance filling in her green eyes. She had no need to consider the offering he made for she already knew her answer. What she had said a few moments before was nothing more than the literal truth. She did not wish to live without him. It would not really be living, merely enduring what for her would have become a hellish existence. "Yes, melda" she said softly, her lips brushing against his in a soft kiss. Her soul wound delicately around him, brushing against his.
Y'Roden closed his eyes as Silverthorn's soul joined with his, and he sighed softly as the warmth of her lips brushed over his own. He felt his heartbeat slow, then steady, matching hers beat for beat as their souls made a connection that would make them more than bondmates, more than husband and wife... Emerald eyes slid open to gaze into jade pools, a look of wonder in their depths. "So be it then," he said softly, "Hon-maren lire, hildo."
At the heart of the silver tendrils the flame spluttered, flickering weakly, as blind agony tore through a body with dangerously few reserves to cope with it. Jade eyes snapped open, their gaze blind, as the S'Hean Queen parted her lips and screamed.
Mira's eyes snapped open at the sound of Silverthorn's scream, but her division of the bonded souls never ceased. The depths of her spring jade eyes were a haunting mixture of colors, one moment D'Riel Emerald, the next Badb Catha jade. Ruthlessly, the dragon-elf continued separating the tendrils and patches of woven soul, and as she worked memories assaulted her mind, emotions flooded her own soul and seeped across into Bran.
Aware of Y'Roden's soul losing its perfect balance and of Silverthorn's becoming unraveled deeper into the tapestry of herself than it should have, Mira's soul caught at Bran's and threads of jade green reached for the steel in Bran's essence and the strands of elven green within her husband.
"Bran...you have to heal them. I cannot do both at the same time, and I dare not pause..."
"I...?" The fair-haired elf swore aloud, "I'll try, but I'm no soul-healer. Hell, I'm not even a healer. None of the Badb Cathas are." Steel-grey tendrils reached out towards his sister first, aware that if that the flame that flickered like a guttering candle at the heart of her being went out then this was all for nothing. His sister would be dead.
"Come on 'nasse," he murmured, grasping at silver mist that threatened to dissipate like fog on a spring morning. "Hang in there." His wife was skilled, but even she could not do a task like this and make it completely clean. The bond was too deeply woven and both souls had been patched up too many times already. With a hint of desperation the jade-eyed elf tried to stitch together the worse of the gaping holes, aware that the job was like trying to hold back the tide.
Mira's awareness flickered only once, wavered but this one time, "Bran, you ARE a Soul-Healer. You are my bond-mate, my husband, my soul-mate. Remember your Yule gift? Use it...you can do this. It is now in your nature, as it is in mine.
She was alllmost there. The rending near complete, and around the rim of Y'Roden's now tattered and wobbling soul, she could see the beginning, where she'd began, and where this would end. The memories of Y'Roden and Silverthorn swept through her, and in the time it had taken to unravel the entire circumference of his spirit and Thorn's, Mira had near complete assimilation of their lives together, their love for one another...there were but a few threads left, holding them together, and here, the Dragon-elf found the greatest battle to be fought.
A lancing barb of black snaked out, caught at her like a strangler-vine winding around her ankle, tripping her progress and causing damage to parts of Y'Roden and Arianne's soul that was not necessary, and could even be permanently damaging.
Fancy meeting you here...so nice of you to join us again. So nice of you to hand him to me on a silver platter..."
Y’Roden’s soul shuddered, a ripple of Aethyr across the spinning hurricane, causing static charges of green lightning to dance around the edges. Ro was weakened, in agony, but he was also angry, and in that was his strength.
Tendrils of emerald whipped out from his c
ore, lashing around the black tangle that was wedged so firmly in his soul and coiling around it like a constrictor crushing its prey.
You’ll not find me so easy a victim, his voice hissed in the darkness, Your power is diminished Samara, you’ll never break free of the amulet. I control your destiny… and you would do best not to forget it. Let her go, lest I rip you out and kill us both.
Bran's attention snapped away from the S'Hean Queen, the silvery threads of the raven-haired elf's soul slipping from his grasp as the demoness' fight threatened to drag them all down with her. "Hells! Mira, pull free!" The fair-haired elf was torn between two of the people he cared about most: his wife and his sister. To help one was to risk losing the other.
"STOP!" Mira's back arched as her soul writhed and turned on Samara's barbed thread of endless black. Wrath, pure and jet black coursed along the threads of Aerdon Black that were turning her elvish gift into that of a SoulRender. Her command was not to Samara, but Bran and Y'Roden and within this plane of souls and eternity, the darkness in Mira Badb Catha turned on Samara.
"Yes, how nice of you to remind you're here. I was feeling disappointment in not feeling your presence. How's your prison, by the way? I'm guessing an empty Illinsaad is a lonely place to spend life eternal."
On the bed, Mira's body shook with Rage that had no physical outlet, and within, the razor fine edge of her mixed-blood soul began to slowly carve against Samara. "You picked the wrong person to tamper with this time, demon-spawn. You and your... ilk... have only the power we give you, no more, no less." Torturously slow, Mira began ripping parts of Samara free of her own soul, "Tell me, captive, what do you know of a SoulRender?" More and more Black Rage poured into the Dragon-elf, yet wasn't allowed to transfer to Samara, who fed on just this, "What's it like, to be sooo close to something that could give you life, sustain you forever, and yet. be. denied a single taste, one measly drop?
"
A scream of utter rage was the only answer Mira received at first, the fragment of Samara’s soul twisting and recoiling as its very existence was threatened.
You cannot kill me, the Demoness snarled, you cannot even remove me, not without killing him in the process.
Maybe that is a sacrifice I’m willing to make, Y’Roden growled, a small one if it would rid us of you for ever. He had subsided when Mira had asked it of him, his awareness becoming hazy and half formed as his soul threatened to disintegrate.
Dark, malice filled laughter came in the wake of Samara's outraged shriek, and her awareness went back to Bran, encouraging him to continue healing. He could do this, he was too strong, too much a part of her body and soul to not be able to do this, despite feeling overwhelmed. Her love for him was laced with Flame and Chaos, her personality was walking on the Black side of her blood.
"Samara." Mira's voice was laden with pity and had the sound of tsk tsk in it, "Don't try me. You don't know a thing about me, or what I can or cannot do. Push me, and you may find all of you crammed in the Illinsaad, not just most of you." Strands of soothing Silver coursed out from Mira's soul and wound with Bran's, then flowed along the ripped and tattered edges of Silverthorn and Y'Roden's soul like a healing balm. Another slice from the sharp edges of Black and Eldredae Green carved Samara free, leaving Mira free to finish what she'd begun. Two more threads lay there to be severed, and it was the final one that finally brought Mira's path of necessary destruction to a pause.
The cycle is at its end, the circuit complete, yet this is not the end. Those words had been spoken by Task, as Mira had pressed her forehead to her mother's temple. She felt her half-elven mother's fingers close over her own. Too cold, too fragile, too weak, they felt dead before her life had even left her.
As she hesitated, she reached for Bran, drawing what strength she dared from him. This final strand would complete it and once severed, there was no going back. What she had done was the exact opposite of what had happened with An'Thaya. Every tethering line had been slashed and cut free, and as she lifted her awareness to gaze on Arianne's soul, she realized just how far away she was from Y'Roden. Her sister-in-law's soul was clinging like a sail caught in the wind, held in place by a mere thread. There it writhed and bucked, instinctively fighting the assault upon it that was tearing her from her soulmate and the dragon-elf shuddered, then let out a deep sob. Tears fell from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, then coursed down upon Arianne and Y'Roden's faces.
This final cut would be the proverbial nail in the coffin. It would possibly damn Mira forever in the eyes of the Gods and Fates, for what she'd done was an abomination, despite it being done out of love and for the sake of hope.
The Tapestry had been unraveled.
With a final wracking sob, one of regret, shared agony and deep sorrow, the final tether was cut free. Now it was up to Bran to heal the damage.
Y’Roden’s eyes flickered open, sparking with the light of severed tendrils as energy ran rampant across the storm. They met Mira’s steadily, and for a moment… he was reminded so much of Task. A woman-child he had protected and guided on a journey she never expected to survive. He saw that same strength, determination and fragility in her daughter now.
A large callused hand cupped the side of Mira’s face and he brushed away a tear with his thumb, managing a smile. She would have understood… Task knew the meaning of sacrifice and mercy.
"Would she?" Mira's voice was husky with choked back sorrow as her jade eyes rolled open to reveal a mélange of greens, some of it her own, still other shades those of Arianne and Y'Roden's own eyes, "I'm not as convinced as you are." Mira's shaking fingertips were tangled in Silverthorn's hair and rubbing at the agonized woman's scalp. Mercy? Aye, perhaps much later this would seem a mercy, but not now. Sacrifice? It was that indeed. A horrible, necessary sacrifice, one that mercy could not soften, would not heal, could not mend.
Steel threads reached out to both emerald and silver souls, binding what wounds he could, but aware that only time would truly tell how successful he had been. Tears glittered in his jade eyes, but did not fall as the fair-haired elf went about his task. His sister's screams had died to an agonized whimpering, her only feline gaze filled only with the emptiness of despair and loss, an agony of the heart her brother could do nothing to heal.
"It's done," Bran said, his quiet words seeming far too loud now to his ears. He wrapped an arm about his wife's waist, drawing her away from the couple on the bed. "We'll go and tell Beth we're leaving the children here with her for now. I don't want them at the Keep. Not when 'nasse first wakes up. Not until we know..." His words died away. Not until we know how she'll react, or not until we know if she would even wake up at all. The fair-haired elf wasn't completely sure which he meant. Jade eyes went back to emerald. "Say goodbye to her, Ro. I know she isn't even really aware of what is going on around her, but at least give her that much."
Abruptly he turned, supporting Mira as he headed towards the door. He knew what he had asked for wasn't merciful, or possibly even kind, but right now he was completely out of both traits.
Y’Roden stared blankly up at the ceiling, saying nothing until he heard the door shut. What Bran didn’t seem to understand, was that the half-elf had been saying goodbye to his wife all day. It had been an agonizing decision made to save her life, to set her free of certain death, and Bran spoke as if he thought Ro had done it out of want, or choice.
Yet… the S’Hean King was well aware that things were never simple, especially in the matters of love. It wasn’t the first time he had ripped himself apart to insure someone else’s survival… if not their happiness. He had learned to accept that people saw things how they wanted to, no matter your intentions.
“You are never going to forgive me for this,” he said softly, “I know this… but it is for the best Arianne. I’m not going to make it through this, I can see that quite clearly… but if any of our children survive, they are going to need you. You have to be strong for them… you can do that, I know you can.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and turned his head to look at her profile, “I love you… I always have. Perhaps not in the ways you needed or wanted me to… I’m not entirely sure where I went wrong with us, but I know you haven’t really been happy in a very long time.”
Silence lay between them for quite some time until the chestnut haired elf finally summoned the energy to pull himself up on one elbow and gaze down at his wife. “So here we are,” a gentle fingertip pulled a lock of raven hair away from her cheek, “and I don’t know what the future holds… but you will live, and that is all that is important.”
Outside in the corridor, Bran pulled his wife into his arms and held her almost impossibly tight, tears running silently down his face. He would take his sister away from here, and for her he would be as strong as he could be, but for now he just needed a moment to cry for a couple who did not seem able to do it for themselves.
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