Am I forcing my hand to write this down?

He thought it might be raining, but it was hard to tell, this far under the canopy of Wajaom. His face was already slick and wet, with tears, with blood, with sweat, with the few cool droplets that made their way through the leaves and splattered on his face and back. His throat burned, and he ached to turn his face upward and catch a few drops on his tongue, but he couldn't stop. Not yet.

The tiny body clasped against his chest in a crushing grip seemed to weigh far more than anything else he'd ever carried. One of Danae's arms hung out from his grasp and swayed limply at his side with each lurching step he took. With each rasping breath, he could feel blood surging from his back, and black specks already swam in his vision. This would have to be far enough, even though he could still dimly hear the sound of the bells on the bastion--

The crowd was roaring. It sounded like the ocean. He was dressed like a Pandion here, like one of his fallen brothers, and he fully expected to join them now. Lillias had stacked the deck, as she always did. She didn't like to lose. He could see in the triumphant gleam of her eyes that she felt she had already won. She underestimated him.

Just because he knew he was going to die didn't mean he planned to be the only one to do so. He would carry her with him into the bowels of Hell.

"Today is the day that Sparhawk, the traitor who sold the Empire's secrets to the Ephramadians, finally is put to death for his crimes against her Majesty!" Lillias screamed to the crowd, glorying in their bloodlust.

"Less talk, Lillias," Sparhawk growled, drawing his black Pandion sword from its scabbard on his back in a single powerful movement. "It's time to finally end this."

Lillias laughed, a deep, rich, sensual sound, and drew her veil across her face. "Yes, it is. Kill him." The Immortals and guards around her rushed at him--

He dropped heavily to his knees and began to paw at the moist loam at the base of a tree. It seemed like such a pathetic place. There wouldn't be sunlight here. Danae loved sunny days. She loved to run outside and spin in circles until she threw herself down on the ground, panting and giggling. Then she would just lie in the sun-warmed grass and stare up at the blue sky until Sparhawk had to admonish her not to look too closely at the sun. His breath was catching and faltering in his throat, and his hands that dig ferociously into the loam were trembling with weakness and grief.

She was gone. She really was dead. His little girl, the only person he had ever truly loved. She laid next to the half-dug grave like a doll tossed carelessly aside, her limbs splayed, her dark hair in her face, her skin chalky-white in death. He sobbed openly now, thick, wrenching sobs that made his wounds throb, and with his blood-slick hands he wrapped her tightly in his cured leather cloak, closing her eyes and lowering her into the shallow grave, and it was so poorly done that there was no way he could keep the carrion-eaters from devouring his little girl, and soon enough he'd die on this spot too, and then who would protect h--

Steel clashed on steel, and suddenly he wasn't alone in the pit anymore; Ikari landed next to him in a crash of heavy adaman armor, tearing her sword from its sheath and flinging divine magic into the face of the nearest Immortal; Seik landed cat-like next to him, fighting her way to his side, and they barely had time to glance into each other's eyes before they had to turn back to fighting, but he saw all of the love in his heart reflected in her eyes; even Kohra, who hated him, had vaulted down into the pit and was lashing out at the guards around them, laughing at their death-agony. Lillias' eyes bulged above her veil at the unexpected turn of events, then threw herself at Sparhawk, cutting down friend and foe alike in her hatred, and he did the same, until their blades met.

"Miss me, dear?" he murmured to her, a grin twisting his mouth, and he was no longer aware of anyone else in the pit other than the woman on the other end of their interlocked swords.

They fought then, as passionately and intensely as they had once made love; Sparhawk had never loved her, but he had cared for her, the woman that he thought could bring him some peace, that had once been pure and kind and loving, now reduced to insanity. Spittle flecked her lips and her eyes were filled with ravening madness as she gibbered at him. Seik joined him in battling her, but Lillias was a woman without conscience and lashed out at all of them indiscriminately. But she couldn't win against him--Sparhawk didn't care if he lived or died, so long as he could finally avenge Danae. They drove her back, and Sparhawk wrenched one of Seik's swords from her hands, and as he bent to her, driving the sword into her body, he said--

"So you'rrrrre just going to give up?"

He'd somehow managed to raise a mound of earth over Danae's grave, and he was almost rigid in death himself, his breath shallow and torpid now. He forced his head up at the voice, and saw a Mithra standing nearby, richly armored in the green jerkin of a Ranger with a strung bow in her hand. Her ear flickered, knocking the cap she wore slightly askew. She pointed the tip of the bow at him. "If you're just going to die therrrre, then I'll let you be. But if you still got some fight left in you, then I'll help you brrrrring the person that did that to justice."

His lips, cracked with dryness, framed the word but could not quite voice it. "Justice...."

And the Mithra grinned. "Justice is the only thing in this world that purges sin."

The others vanished in a flare of light. Reinforcements were rushing the pit, clambering up over the fencing. Sparhawk turned away, satisfied, but it was a grim satisfaction. He felt very cold, inside and out, and noticed the soldiers approaching with detachment. "Sparhawk!" Lillias cried from the ground, scrabbling at it, struggling to rise with the sword pinning her to the earth. "Get.... get back here! This isn't finished! I am your destiny!!"

He turned then, looking at her with pitiless eyes, and his face curved into a sneer. "I am Anakha," he said. "I have no destiny."

Letter not meant to be read.

Kre'oss,

This letter is not meant to come to you, and I will ensure that it does not. At least, not at this time. I think of you always; it is proving near impossible to let you go. Even now, after what I have witnessed and believe you to have done. I do not know any longer if I believe in destiny, as it seems I've interupted what should have been destiny on several occasions. Perhaps it was your destiny to kill Esbet. I just am not sure what to think any longer. Alby seems to think you are not yourself, and are being controled by someone else. I cannot imagine you succumbing to someone else's whims however. Tsiife and Lyall seem to think there has to be a good reason behind why you did it. I do not know where to go to find the answers. At this very moment, none of it seems to matter.

I'm sitting here in my Moghouse, leaning against a bookshelf and seeing you in every corner. I've tried to change it, to remove some of the memories, but I see you still. I sold our bed, the huge dressers, the cupboards. That drawer I opened on that night, to give you my ring, it is gone. Yet I still see that scene when I look in that corner. I see the phantom tub in the spot we shared a bath and a breakfast on that last morning. I see you standing in front of the fire, shivering and afraid. I see you in my arms as we laid together on our bed. The furniture is gone but your phantom is still here. Sometimes I hear the door gently open and close, the way you used to be so careful not to disturb me, but when I turn, I see only an empty doorway.

If I could turn back time, if I could have prevented all the accusations, all the hurtful things I said, perhaps I could have stopped Esbet's death. Perhaps you would have come to me, and welcomed my open arms again. A week to me, twenty years to you. I regret that I sent you back. I wish more than anything that you were still here with me, or that I had gone with you.

I am sorry I have failed you. I am sorry I am not a worthy creature to be part of your life. Forgive me that I still hold on when there is nothing left but mist and shadows.

I love you still,
Kohra

Destiny

Guest blog!!

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Sparhawk stood in front of the alter, attending to the tiny chores; lighting the candles, wiping away the dust and webs that had accumulated so quickly. He had fitted locks on all the doors. This place had become far to popular for his comfort.

He paused, thinking now of what was left for him to do in this lifetime.

What use am I now?

His brothers were gone, all dead or missing. He was the only one left of his order. He had finally exacted revenge on Lillias, and avenged his daughters death. He realized suddenly, he was free. He didn't need to sculk around in shadows anymore, living a half-life. True, he could probably never return to the empire, but it didn't really matter to him.

So what now? What is there left to do?

There was Seik, of course, his hope, his ray of sunshine. She deserved far better than anything he had to offer, but she was tenatious, refusing to let him go. Maybe, if she loved him so, there was something of worth in him that he simply couldn't see. He had given her so many opportunites to leave, to go off and find something better. But she had chosen him. Who was he to turn that away? Who indeed?

We could have a life together now. There is nothing left chasing me, the demons have all been slain. I owe it to her to return her love and take care of her.

He took one final look around the shadowy place that had been his home for so long, and gave it a silent goodbye. He would not be needed here any longer, his place was out there, by Seik's side.

He climbed the stairs slowly, his heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. As he locked the door and turned away, towards his new life, he smiled, knowing he might finally be able to find the joy he longed for.

And for the first time in his life, he was terrified...

Tilling

They had buried her, the two of them, in the garden her friends had made for her earlier. The seeds hadn't had time to sprout yet and that was good, because some of them were disturbed during the process. Tsiife's careful hands helped replace them and Lyall's concern double-checked to be sure that they were taken care of.

In the end they had done exactly what Lyall had wished they could. Loo had a resting place. She could be nestled away on the shelf, cozy with her garden and watching the sea if she so chose to be. Lyall didn't know enough about who she was to be able to give her a more meaningful spot so he chose one important to him, the place where they had met.

Tsiife took a moment to speak. Lyall held back tears until Tsiife couldn't contain hers, and they shared a moment in each others arms mourning a loved one. Tsiife proposed they leave a ptroper headstone for her. Lyall wasn't sure. He didn't know enough about Loo to mark birth. For him, the tiny garden would be enough.

It had been such a long few days for him. His face was gaunt, his eyes tired and red and sore from all the tears. He'd made a promise to Kohra, at any rate, and he intended to keep it. He had meant what he said, though, when he wanted to honor Loo before doing anything resembing moving on. Lyall's head was mostly clouded lately, and he wanted to tread carefully.

Every time he thought about her in a wedding dress he broke down again.

Bonds

Kohra lay in the bed next to Alby, his arm stretched across Alby's chest. They were both so emotionally drained, all they wanted was sleep, and to be comforted in the knowledge that their friendship still existed.

I can get through this if you don't push me away. I you left me now, I would shatter. As long as you love me, you give me the strength to carry on. How you can think of yourself as a failure, as useless, I don't understand. You are so very strong, it pains me to know how you hate yourself, how sad you are. We love you, Mai and Seik and I. And while the love of a pathetic creature such as myself stands for nothing, the love of those two for you should be worth more than all the gil in this world. I may not deserve it, and I certainly don't understand it, but the knowledge that you love me gives me new hope. I think, although I've lost -him-, I still have you, my treasured friend and I can carry on. Perhaps together we can unravel this mystery, and discover why this has happened.

Kohra took a deep breath, allowing the air to escape his lungs in a shuddering sign as he finally let go and drifted off to sleep.

I'm not here, this isn't happening

Kohra sat in the bath, in front of the fireplace, shivering. The water had long ago gone cold, the fire had died on the grate. The food Harold had prepared sat beside him on a table, cold and untouched. Kohra didn't notice any of these things. How long he had been like this, he didn't know, or care. Time had ceased to exist for him.

The amulet was on the floor. Kohra stared at it, unseeing. His mind was a loop of recent memories, playing over and over again in random, chaotic order. Caen'ir's hand gently reaching out for Kre'oss' shoulder as they disappeared. Alby standing as a statue, watching the carnage. Esbet's final words to him, her sagging body dying against his chest. Kre'oss on the cliff above, his sword dripping with blood. Esbet encased in ice beside Fei'Yin.

In the back of his mind, barely aware he was doing it, he kept repeating: "I'm not here, this isn't happening."

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Go here for the music I was listening to for this post:
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=7vFaoA7t2RE

Half Moon Waxing 54%

Lyall woke with a start, first aware that he was face down in the snow nude and second aware of the screaming fire that arced down his back. He screamed, shamelessly.

Weak moonlight bounced off of the snow. It was night time and it was either shortly after his assault or a month after. Aching muscles attempted to lift his body but here was more keeping him restrained than simple exhaustion. Once his breath started to flow in short partially restrained gulps Lyall's freezing digits dug up a thick and heavy length of chain that attached a set of manacles. The hume let out a short gasp of bewilderment, turning over in the snow and simultaneously realizing the snow was red around his midsection. Too much of his body was numb so he kicked his legs to uncover a second chain, a second level to his imprisonment.

The crunch of footsteps, someone approaching. Lyall turned rolled over and faced the moon, her face half-dark in the night. A form blotted it out, the features embraced by the shadows and only a large silhouette glared down. Lyall's face was painted with confusion.

"Do you know why you're here, beast?" The voice belonged to a hume, a large one. It was deep, bellowing. Lyall was more confused than anything and only stared in defiance. There was a sound he recognized as a weapon being unsheathed. A small glint in the moonlight and the dagger was clear.

The large shape loomed down and Lyall got a better look as the moonlight colored his face. It was a hume, a man who could have passed for his late sixties. This didn't make any sense. Had Lyall been tracked and ambushed by this man? His curiosity and wonderment had distracted him and the ache in his muscles and back blinded him. Lyall called out as the dagger bit into him but not because of pain. His muscles were too frozen and numb to send the pain and it only struck him as a distant discomfort. Lyall watched the tip of the knife dig into his skin and something deep inside Lyall snarled.

"I'm going to keep you here, beast, and when you change, I'm going to skin you." The words were foul and full of malice, whispered directly into Lyall's ear. The hume struggled against the chains with futile recklessness. The cold acted as a muscle relaxant and the position left him with no leverage.

For no reason at all Lyall had a visage of that terrible gaping maw from his dream. Something primal inside him cried out. The old man just smirked and backed away, a symbol drawn in Lyall's skin that he didn't recognize.

Crunching footsteps, someone walking away.

Dreaming of Rain

Kohra woke with a gasp, yet he remained still, looking up at the ceiling in the darkness, and listening. His skin tingled with the phantom touch he had felt in his dream. He turned over on his side, reaching out beside him, hoping, yet knowing what he would find. Empty sheets, empty pillows, empty house... and now an empty soul. His thoughts came forth out of the dream, ringing clear in his mind: "If you could just understand how I feel--if I could just understand how you feel--"

But it was too late for that, he had ruined any chance he might have had. There would be no dancing in the rain, no Kre'oss watching him, ready to take him into his arms. He tucked his long legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and the empty pillow. His throat seemed to close off and his breaths came in irregular gasping gulps of air.

"Altana!" he cried out, his voice reverberating off the walls of a silent, empty home. "When will this pain stop? I feel I am dying every moment I'm awake!"

The only answer that came to him were his own choking sobs and the memory of Kre'oss' final words with him: "I do not belong to anyone. I will not allow it."

Driving Rain

A guest blog entry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What does any of this mean, if you're not here?

When I'm alone, I just feel worthless. How can I really know that I exist without other people there with me? Without YOU there with me?

You always leave me, and that makes me feel worthless. No--I make me feel worthless, because I think that if I were worth loving, if I were somehow a better person, then I could make you stay, make you love me. But because I am nothing, a selfish person, a pathetic person, you turn away from me.

I've memorized every line of your retreating back, the way you hold your shoulders, the way the small of your back tenses up just a little, as if you can feel my eyes on you. Sometimes, I hate you then, but I think it's just love, crystallized to a sharp point, digging into my chest until I can feel it twisting in my side. I think you can feel it, too, it hurts that much. Maybe I want you to feel it. If you could just understand how I feel--if I could just understand how you feel--

Kohra laid on the floor of the Twilight God's shrine, staring up at the statue with blank, unseeing eyes. Half-reclined, his lanky, muscular body was stretched out onto his elbows, his legs splayed wide and his long, unbound hair in an aureole around his head. He wasn't sure how long he had been here, staring up at the statue with its nebulous face; the little light that reached the grotto from the winding staircase was barely enough to illuminate the polished, gleaming face of the statue anymore, but he couldn't seem to rouse himself to light candles. When he laid here, just like this, like a discarded toy or a powerless automaton, he felt surrendered to everything. And it was safe to surrender, here, where no one could see him. The body could fade away, and he could grapple in solitude with the emotions that were threatening to devour him of late.

It's like a storm, you and I.

I want you so much. I need you. I hunger for you, for your touch and your eyes and your voice. I want to forget everything else around me.

It's so easy to do that when you're there. I can lose myself and all of those things that I hate about myself when you offer your arms to me.

I almost forget what your embrace feels like. I forget what lying with you in the darkness feels like. I forget what the sound of your heart is like. I forget the feel of your chest breathing. I would rest a hand on your chest sometimes at night when you were sleeping, just to feel your chest thrum with your steady heartbeat, just to feel your body sway slightly with the rhythms of your breath. I had to, because I had to reassure myself that you were alive, that you were real, as real as me and my pain and all of the things that I hate so much about this world. Then sometimes, you'd respond to my touch in your sleep, and your lips would part just slightly, dried out from sleep, and you'd sigh a little. I'd see your eyes moving under your eyelids, and you'd surrender a little to my hand.

I'd give anything to see that unguarded look of love that your sleeping self wore, just one more time. I'd take it deep into myself, and burn it on my soul so that I'd never forget again. Or at least... I'd try.

Kohra rose to his feet. He made a half-hearted effort to pull his cloak back around him, mostly because the gusts of wind down the staircase were surprisingly cold, and he wavered for a moment on his feet, his body protesting at the sudden movement. He suddenly didn't want to see the statue anymore, with its lying, wavering face and its cold distance. It was just fucking stone. What good was THAT to him, to anyone? He slammed the door hard on the way out, taking a small twinge of satisfaction in the echoing sound of the door, and ascended the stairs two at a time.

It was as dark as midnight outside, and the tower which hid the entrance to the shrine was slick with rain; Ronfaure's mighty trees tossed in gale-force winds, and horizontal rain lashed at him as he stepped out from the tower's protection. The rain was surprisingly warm, and Kohra turned his face up, water stinging his eyes. The air above was charged and rippled with thunder and lighting; the skies were dancing, and ripping apart, and within himself Kohra felt something begin to open up and respond. He flung open his arms, dropping his pack, and shed what was left of his armor; rain and wind tugged at his clothes, demanding that he dance as well, and Kohra turned in the downpour, glorying in the feel of the rain and the charge and the raging skies.

And then, Kreoss was there as if it was meant to be. Kohra felt strong fingers on his arm, and he turned to look down into shuttered blue eyes half-hidden behind shades. Kreoss's face was rigid, and the eyes turned up toward Kohra were questioning, yearning; if it had been any other moment, Kohra's doubts would have made him turn away, murmur doubts, close himself off, but the storm and the statue and the moment all seemed conspired somehow. Kohra's hands closed about Kreoss's wrists, and he pulled the Zilart close, their rain-soaked bodies pressed against each other, and Kohra almost shuddered in delight at the way sinew and muscle joined together, as if they were a perfect fit. Kreoss yielded, and Kohra accepted; their lips met under the lashing sky, and thought itself seemed to end in that electric caress.

I thought being with you would mean that I would lose myself--not find someone else there, beside me.

Announcing the Guest Blog Challenge!

Lyall's guest blog inspired me to announce a guest blog challenge :D Here's an opportunity for us to grow as writers.

Here are the rules:

1. Can't write about your own characters. Has to be a story or storylet about someone else's!
2. Must be from their perspective.
3. Nothing dramatically out of character--try to really think as the other person's character and not let your own perspective color it too much.

There might be a prize involved too ;P

~Soli~

Gift Blogging!

They were laying near the small lake in Ronfaure in their usual positions. He was flat out with his hands folded casually under his head. She was curled on his chest, one tiny hand loosely clinging to his tunic and the other gently resting on his chest. She was dozing with her eyes closed, his were open and staring into the darkening sky. The usual.

"Seik, it looks like rain," Sparhawk said, speaking quietly to softly rouse Seikatsu from her doze. She looked up at him with that sweetly perfect smile that always seemed to touch him.

"Can we stay here as long as the weather permits?" Her tone was likewise quiet, her words beckoning to stay in the bliss of a loved one's company on a lazy afternoon for just a little while longer. Sparhawk took a glance at the heavy and drooping clouds and then back at Seikatsu, her eyes gleaming with adoration.

"As long as the weather permits, okay. We can stay until the rain drives us away." He smiled at her and she reciprocated.

"You promise?"

"Of course, Seik. Just don't hold it against me if your clothes get wet." He teased jokingly. Seik had that effect on Sparhawk sometimes. He wasn't usually the joker.

"Good." Seik shifted her weight and with a murmur and a simple gesture placed Aurastorm on both of them. A moment later the skies were too swelled and rain began to fall, splashing the grass and the surface of the lake with not a drop landing on either of the lovers.

Seik curled back up on Sparhawk's chest and closed her eyes, musing to him before she dozed back off. "Looks like the weather wants us right here..."

First Quarter Waxing 51%

He wasn't sure how far north he had come any longer. Most of his travels were the sleep deprived, zombie-like gait that urged him forward to lands he didn't know. His feet led the way, his mind not quite aware of his surroundings.

The wounds he had sustained during his encounter with the Kindred were thankfully not critical. Some miles behind him there were tatters of clothing with his blood splashed on them, not far from the corpse of the demon. Lyall was a bit stiff the following morning but he had long ago learned to move while wounded. The worst of it was over and he had been traveling without much issue for some days.

It worried Lyall when his higher mind was around. The moon was so large in these lands, hogging up most of the view in the sky and looming like something terrible. It was a constant reminder, it was his calendar here. The full moon was still a dozen or more days away but everything felt wrong since that brush with the Kindred. The air was too still, there was a tension that Lyall couldn't shake. It reminded him of how the world felt during the full moon, when his predator's presence would be at its fullest. It didn't make sense for it to kick in only halfway...

He felt like he was traveling in a new world, so far away from the things he knew and the person he loved. This place was unlike that one, this place was always cold and never inviting and was too harsh for it to exist in the same world as the other. The dreams grew more intense as he got further from home, further from her. They had originally been vague, the sort of nightmare that adults had where waves of bad emotions overtook the proverbial horrors of youth. Since the Kindred however they had been the stuff of a child's nightmares, where the dread wasn't worst part for the monsters you could finally lay eyes on.

Homes set into the snow and ice ablaze, bodies torn apart like ragdolls in the hands of a destructive child. Everywhere were these four-legged monstrosities, furry like a wolf but too large, far too large. Men fought to protect their loved ones and limbs were clawed away, bodies ripped open to expose the soft and warm innards before the monsters devoured entrails. It was bloody and terrible to see and since the Kindred they had only become more vivid.

Lyall shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He had been dazing too much, his instincts were getting sloppy. It was this damned frozen wasteland. There was no life here, nothing worth saving or preserving. There was no hope to be found here, there was only the hope you brought with you.

The moon was straight ahead of him, set in the sky and watching everything play out below. Lyall stopped to look at it, wondering why his curse was tied so strongly to it and he paused, his muscles locking up at the sound behind him. The crunching of snow, the setting of muscles and Lyall was pounced face-first into the snow, several hundred pounds of force driving him down down down into the white frost, his vision fading to black as his wounds reopened.

"Loo..."

Dark Clouds

Sparhawk's eyes came open. Seik was lying on his chest, as was her custom; he'd gotten used to waking up with her weight on top of him, the steadiness of her breathing lulling him back to sleep. One small hand was curled into a half-fist on his shoulder, grasping his tunic in loose fingers. Even now, was she worried he'd vanish on her? He laid there for a long few minutes, listening to the even rhythms of her breath, inhaling the scent of her hair. One of her ears softly flickered occasionally in sleep, and her face looked so peaceful. He wondered what she was looking at behind her downy veil of eyelashes, what sorts of dreams she had now. He raised a hand to brush her hair back from his chest, letting the silkiness of it pass through his rough fingers, then stroked her ears caressingly.

He was too old for her, too broken, too cynical, too consumed by vengeance. She was as beautiful and unspoiled as dawn on a spring day. She was the freshness of sun-warmed air, the azure blue on the western horizon; she was sweetness itself; she was anything anyone could ever ask for. Since promising to spend nights with her, their relationship had grown and flowered in a way that he had not expected. She had been slow to respond to his gentle advances at first, and he had not pressed her, but when she had finally opened up to him it was with the same tenderness and love that she had always given him. It was more than he was worth. It had never felt like that with Lillias. SHE had always been ardent, but with a demanding petulance that he had once found engaging.

He grimaced at thoughts of Lillias spoiling his morning's peace. If it really WAS morning. The fire had died down to the merest embers. Mel was nowhere to be seen; she tended to make herself scarce (with the requisite sighs, glares, and other displays of high drama that he was accustomed to ignoring). Carefully, he slid out from underneath Seik, repositioning her in the rumpled blanket that was usually their bed. She sighed in her sleep at the change, but it did not rouse her. He straightened and stretched, grimacing at muscles and joints cracking in protest. Sleeping on the floor was alright for an old campaigner, but it got hard to get up in the mornings sometimes.

He stoked the fire, putting on a few more logs, then stripped to the waist. His morning routines had become crystallized over years of use; he brought water from the outside fountain, then washed. His hands skirted over the old, deep, purple gashes in his body almost mechanically. They still ached, especially on mornings like this one. The summer air outside, even in the very early morning, was rich with humidity. He didn't bother with breakfast, pulling on a clean undershirt and all of his armor. He spared one more glance for Seik, now almost lost in the blanket, still sleeping soundly. Then he soundlessly left the room, loosening his knives in their sheaths.

He could likely make his way down to the grotto blindfolded, for all that he had not made the trip in years. And it was back, as he had expected--the statue of the Dark One. The air in the shrine was a great deal fresher than it had been previously, even though he had repaired the door. Someone had probably been visiting here recently. Kohra, he guessed. The others likely wouldn't need this place. Sparhawk had made a few efforts to clean the dust and cobwebs out of the shrine, and had repaired or hidden most of the weaponry, the pieces that were not rusted beyond usefulness. He hated to see his brothers' hideout in such disrepair.

He carefully lit the candles, then gazed up at the statue. It showed Lillias's face now. That wasn't particularly surprising. For all of his gentle words and careful solicitude for Seik of late, only one thought consumed him. His mind was always dwelling on it. He dreamt about it, when he did not dream of Danae, and a million plans for its fruition spun in his mind. Nothing else mattered in comparison. He felt his fists clenching up reflexively, his fingertips digging into his palm even through his thick buffalo-hide gloves.

That bitch took everything from me. Every word she said to me, every memory we shared, the child we created, the life that we built together--it was all just a lie. A perversion. And she'll try to take everything else I have, too. I know her. It rankles her, like a flea digging into her ear, that I have any happiness at all. She even killed Danae. Our own DAUGHTER! An innocent that loved her. It's unforgivable. While she lives, I can never know life or peace or joy. While she lives, none of the people I care for are safe. While she lives, Seik and I can have no life together. This isn't a life anyway. It's just a prison term. And it's all her fault.

Enraged, he drew his bow and snapped an arrow from the string; it clattered from that hated, beautiful face and fell to the floor. He turned on his heel and strode from the shrine, taking the steps two at a time. There was work, so much work, left to be done. Soon. Soon, he would avenge Danae. Maybe then he would be able to enjoy peaceful mornings like this one again instead of being consumed by this horrible emptiness.

Note Book 10 Page 48-50

I’m feeling a lot better now. Though I can only very vaguely recall what has happened since the last time I wrote. There are only certain points I can remember clearly. I remember Kohra having found me in Northern San d’Oria and he tried to help me. I remember Mai showing up at some point, why she was there I really don’t know... The one thing I can remember, clear as day, is when Sparhawk showed up.

As soon as I saw him I felt calm and happy. He asked Kohra and Mai to leave then sat down with me and asked what was wrong. I told him about the nightmares, the images of the dream skipping through my head as I told him. His tone is always gentle around me, always comforting. He lay down on the floor and told me he would stay with me every night, I felt overjoyed when he said that. Last thing I remember was resting my head on his chest for only a moment before falling asleep to the sound of his heart.

And the nightmares were gone, instead replaced by vivid, warm, soft colors that danced around in my mind while I slept. It was like the nightmares never existed at all. Though I know they did… When Sparhawk is with me I don’t feel frightened. The only time I feel afraid when he is by my side is if he is hurt… Then there is an overwhelming wave of fear that just sweeps over me and I just freeze up. I feel alone and don’t know what to do, much like a lost child. I have many fears… Lillias, Alberic when he is taken over, losing my friends… But I think that losing Sparhawk is the worst of my fears.

When I had thought I had lost him back in the Testing Grounds… Everything just hurt… I can’t really describe it, it just felt like pain. If Alberic and the others hadn’t come to find me I don’t think I would have moved from that spot in the woodlands. I think I may have just been completely unwilling to move, perhaps unwilling to even go about life. When Alberic said that Sparhawk could still be alive, it felt like I had taken the first deep breath after feeling like I had held my breath for hours. And when Kohra, Joundi, and I found him alive and well in that strange hidden shrine, the feeling was just, I don’t know… I felt like I could have sprouted wings.

I’ve been very happy and light hearted the past couple of days. Been studying the stratagems in my grimoires and learning about strange magic that can alter the weather around a person. Yesterday I was able to conjure a small rainstorm around some flowers I found out in Ronfaure. It’s amazing to be able to create all types of weather. I wonder what the others will think of this magic. I picked up some new armor in the past Bastok as well. Though the coat is heavy and the skirt takes some getting used to, it’s really a nice outfit.

I hope I see the others some time soon. I don’t want anyone who happened to see me while I was under the effect of those dreadful nightmares to be worried. I imagine I must have looked awful after not having slept in days.