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Leaves crunched underfoot as what remained of their party marched back from the Temple. The air hung burdened with grief. Darkness lay vanquished in the valley behind them, but its demise had come at no small cost.
Aisa glanced back at the ruins. She found that despite the events of the day, she had discovered some semblance of peace within the temple. Now, with the spirit of grief no longer hovering over her being, Aisa felt she could breathe again. She mourned Melahar, and would for some time. But, unlike the death and destruction she’d seen in her lifetime, his death had held a purpose, a meaning. Melahar, true to his beliefs, had made the final sacrifice.
Aisa stared at her feet as they marched. She shouldn’t have made it out from that fight. She hadn’t expected to. Yet the spirits, it seemed, had different plans for her. Whenever she went in to battle expecting death, it never came.
Of course, she had considered the possibility that she would survive the fight. During their travel to the Temple she’d resolved to disappear at the battle’s conclusion; to slink off into the wilderness and spare her friends the misery she seemed to carry in her wake. But perhaps Artius was right. Maybe there was still some good she could do on this plane.
Xavros walked behind her, focus reserved solely for the spear in his hands. Aisa resolved to help him in his rule, at least for the time being.
--
Rosy light of dawn filtered through the window of a secluded room in the halls of Sanctuary. The room, small but clean, held little more than a bed and a nightstand. Books lay piled around the bed’s edge in hastily organized stacks. A mul sat under the open window, legs crossed and brow furrowed as she carved into a small token. When she’d finished the last stroke, she paused to admire her handiwork. The wooden token read ‘ABÂK NI AMRÂD, GELMAG ÂN’. Freedom in Death, Peace with Purpose. She ran her thumb over the inscription. Melahar would not be forgotten.
A pile of blankets rustled in the corner. The mul tucked her token in a pocket, then stood and walked to the bedside. Under its covers, a deva started at her approach.
She breathed a laugh, “Peace, Mathus. I’m not here to hurt you.”
“Aisa,” Mathus smiled weakly and Aisa returned the gesture as she pushed a glass of water into his hands.
“It’s good to see you awake and well,” she said, “the healer did a good job.”
She stooped down to help him sit then settled at the edge of the bed. “I went to Sanctuary’s library while you were asleep,” she hummed, “Though I’m not terribly well-versed in your studies, I figured some books would clutter the room a bit. Make you feel more at home.”
Mathus looked at the piles of books then chuckled and turned to sift through the volumes. The deva nodded at the various titles. A few books in, he paused and held up a large, dusty tome. He angled its cover at the mul, eyebrow raised.
“‘A Complete Index of Unicorn Traits and Behavioral Tendencies’?”
Aisa shrugged, “as I said, I don’t know your preferences.”
“I suppose I could broaden some of my studies,” he laughed, placing the book on the nightstand. He regarded the mul for a second then reached to grasp at her hand. Aisa’s smile faltered as she pulled her hand away. She glanced at the door then back at the deva.
“Mathus…”
His brow furrowed, “what’s wrong?”
“We’ve lost so many already. You were almost one of them. If something happened to you… I just, I think it would be better if I—”
“If you what? Seclude yourself from society? Avoid any and every personal attachment that could possibly arise?” Mathus sat taller to look her in the eyes, “Aisa, everything you have ever done has been to help people, and you’ve done better than most.” He laced his fingers with hers, then pulled her hand to press a kiss to her wrist.
“You don’t have to be alone.”
She studied his expression, eyes darting between her hand and his mouth. He allowed her to lean close and didn’t pull back when she pressed her lips to his own. Fingers threaded through her hair and she curled into his touch. She let him deepen the kiss, its pace slow and languid to make up for the years they’d missed.
Bright morning sun shone through the window, and the first sounds of the day filtered in from the halls outside. A mul and a deva sat in the secluded room, foreheads pressed together in comfortable silence.
A smile played softly on Aisa’s lips, “I thought I’d lost you.”
“I had feared the same,” Mathus replied, “It seems we were both mistaken.”
--
A warm breeze filtered through the leaves of an oak that held a pair of lovers beneath its outstretched branches. The air smelled of summer storms and a low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. A Mul rested in the grass at its base, leaned up against the thick trunk. At her side sat a stately Deva, scanning a note from a large stack of missives.
“Interesting,” he hummed.
The Mul stirred from her thoughts and turned to glance at the letter in his hands. The note was written on thick stock, filled to the edges with condensed script. She halfheartedly began to read its contents, but turned to the Deva as he spoke again.
“There’s some news in here from Xavros. Ivan is still as hard-headed as ever, but he’s getting older, and his people seem favorable to Xavros’ rule. There’s also some mention of Aventi activity to the South, I assume that information is directed at you.”
She eyed the passages he’d mentioned and nodded sagely.
“The research for that dust of his seems to be flourishing as well. You have told him that I can be of aid in these sort of endeavors I presume?”
The Mul hummed softly and laced her fingers with his.
“Perhaps he’s scared your knowledge would surpass his own,” she said, “he’s very sensitive about those things you know.”
The Deva looked up from his parchment, eyebrows raised. Dimples framed the Mul’s amused grin.
“Hm. Yes, quite.”
Thunder rumbled again, and the first drops of rain fell through the leaves of the great oak. The Deva gathered his papers and turned to leave.
“Are you coming in?” he asked over his shoulder.
The Mul eyed the horizon, her smile widened as a bolt of lightning sundered the sky.
“Maybe in a little while.”
--
Fin.