Completed Candles Once Bright

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

Their journey through the Spine had been a harsh one. Following the Amalgamation’s devastation of the Orcish city of Bhathkirk, they had no choice but to depart. His dear friends, Caliane and Lazule were in a situation for which he knew no solution – only the hope that Lazule had spoken of. And hope was indeed all he had in it. For one fear was exchanged with another – could it even now be done? Now that the two had been joined, he had not yet felt Caliane's presence – only the Life Fire spoke to him.

Indeed, he was joyed that Lazule's apparently desperate need had been elated by their joining – surely another selfless act from the Avariel, but he found the singular voice deeply troubling. He had much time to contemplate her Being – her nature. The ruined body that was previously Lazule, was one fact at one time before even that, someone else. While their union had quite obviously been different, given the lack of the encasement she once required, it was perhaps no better. Maybe even worse.

What was Lazule? Where was Caliane? Why could he not speak with her? He needed to speak with her –

…needed?

In this time, he found himself in a place he had never expected to ever be. He was... vulnerable… in many ways. The turmoil they had faced battling the Amalgamation had awoken things in him that had long been dormant. Memories he had for so many years now ran from, and with the guiding light of the Soul Forge he had always found solace. But that was now gone… and he found himself…

Alone.

Afraid.

Tormented by his failure to defend and protect those he loved the most.

With all his heart.

Gone.​

It was late afternoon one day. He had just stoked the fires, and his companions continued their much-needed recuperation. He… refused. He ventured outside, finding the day to be quite pleasant. The sun was shining, and with little more than his boots, leather trousers and white linen across his back, he strapped his remaining sword to his hip and…strolled. He meandered around the property, losing himself in the water wheel as it spun, and watched the water gently roll on downstream.

It was… peaceful, here. And it was odd. He could always hear the rushing of water with crystal clarity, the birdsong overhead. He could always feel the breeze on his skin, dancing through his hair, see the sunlight, shining across the land and windswept grass. But everything felt… different, now. Like the quiet that now occupied his mind made room for a greater sensation, a deeper awareness. Appreciation.

He stretched out his arms and let the wind billow against his loose shirt. He closed his eyes and breathed a deep breath. The air smelled clearer. It pleased him. He…smiled.

He began to walk along the waterside, watching as many sorts of creatures scurried about in and around it. He stopped by a few still coves and tossed a rock or two before moving on. The wind kicked up from time to time, and he found himself enjoying the serenity of this place. There was nothing but the wild air and the birds and the bugs. The odd mammal peaked its head, but he was nothing worth their attention. Soon he found himself traveling down a gentle, rocky slope, and the trees sprung up alongside the rushing water. He descended into a misty meadow. The air was thick with moisture here, and water formed beads on his skin.

Nimbly he walked through, expressing his elven self in ways he hadn't since he was a child – stroking his hand through the mist and looking with wonder at the natural beauty around him. A pleasant scene washed over his mind, and the image of his daughter dancing through the grass filled his heart with a warmth…

She is always with me…

He watched her image twirl and prance to the edge of the meadow…

There in the shadow of the trees stood a figure. He blinked. They were hooded and cloaked, and from beneath red eyes peered out. He heard a snap behind, and his head turned to see. Another, taller one, covered the same. They each approached – in perfect unison.

They came into better light and he saw the insignia on the robes. He saw their faces.

“Te'leis!” he cried joyfully, and then turned to the other, “Aidathin!”

But there was no joy shared from them. No, instead they threw aside their coverings and brandished their weapons, Aidathin: the mighty polearm lance, and Te'leis: dual short swords – forgoing her bow. And each of them charged with magical energy – each of the fresh. Aimed at him. Dread fell upon his face.

“What…what are you doing?”

In a flash they leapt forth. He saw their faces, looked into their eyes. Nothing. Not at all who they once were, or who he once knew them to be. Something had changed… but then, he had changed. Was that why they had come…?

Quickly he unsheathed his sword. He clashed with Te'leis, bounding around her and shoving her aside. Aidathin weaved around her, bringing the lance crashing down. Erën narrowly escaped, and then leapt back to collect himself. His instinct reached for the jeweled sword – gone; broken. They leapt toward him again.

“Stop this!” he pleaded.

But they would not relent. There was something, dark, that drove them. They did not come to apprehend him as some fugitive. They had come to eradicate him, with hate in their hearts. It poured out upon him with each crushing blow, each block, each evasion. It pained him.

He was kicked. He hurled backward, and rolled to his feet. Te'leis was upon him in a breath – sweeping both swords down at him in rage. He blocked her, and held her there and gazed deep.

“Te'leis, listen to me. Its-!”

He leapt to avoid another of Aidathin's attacks. They fired magic upon him, and he them. Trees nearby were set ablaze, and the skies above rolled with sorrow.

The sound of steel rang out loud, and as lightning crashed, with punch and kick, slash and stab he fought them. Desperately he fought them. For while they were Swords like he too - once – they were far from his peers. But with the injuries he still nursed slowly… they began to overshadow him…

He grew tired…

…but he could not bring himself to do what he knew he must…​

As the days light grew weak, and the clouds above began to weep he called to them, “Aidathin, Te'leis!”

They continued their charge. His face curled with pain, and his eyes welled...

“...don't… do this…”​

Still, they advanced. Aidathin threw aside his lance and loosed forth a sword – like his former. Through cruelty, and barred teeth they roared at him the sound of agony, and then they attacked.

Silence.​

He ducked below Aidathin's swing… his sword passed through him with a slick sheen of blood.

A sharp breath. A step. His sword clanged against hers. He kicked her knee. Pushed her side. She stumbled away. He brandished the sword. She turned, one arm raised and he was there. His free hand reached up, stopping her. His other hand, felt warm as the blood began to pour out the wound – his sword sunk deeply into her abdomen. Her face burned him with that same rage filled stare – even as her breath began to gargle and her struggles grew weak.

She dropped her swords. Erën's hand came to behind her neck, and he pulled the sword free and knelt with her as she too, dropped. He laid her back, and he watched as the flame in her eyes grew dim, and for a moment they both knew – there had been no other way.

Erën held her as the life finally left. His bloodied palm rested against his chest, and then fell upon hers after closing her empty eyes.

All the while he shook and shuddered. Sobs escaped tightly clenched eyes. The warmth of her blood that now soaked him, disgusted him. His heart, tore. It bled. And he cried. He screamed out and roared with fury.

And he wept over her, and he looked into the blackened skies, ignoring the raindrops that pummeled his open eyes. His body cried with rain and blood, and his voice hollered out into the night in languishing, horrible grief.