There is no quality in others that frightens you more
than the shadow of what you might have been.
Still none of them spoke. Seconds, minutes ticked away into eternity and the silence grew heavier and more solid between them. She had no idea what to say or do. No visions could have prepared her for this, and so she was almost grateful when he was the one to speak first.
"You are the one who cast the Recovery spell on Flagoon."
Somewhere between a question and statement, his voice rasping and dry, barely more than a whisper.
"Yes."
She didn't know what else to say. The entire situation was so absurd, so unreal she caught herself wondering if she was still home in her bed, dreaming.
She could see him studying her closely, his mismatched eyes reflecting the faint moonlight like a cat's.
Then he seemed to notice his surroundings for the first time, and even in the dark she could see a look of puzzlement cross his face.
"What is this place?"
"Sairaag."
She could hear the bitterness in her own voice. He blinked, no less confused.
"This is Sairaag?"
"It used to be."
It used to be a great city, she thought. A city full of happy people. My home. And you destroyed it.
He stared at the black dome towering over them, the fallen debris, the cracked walls.
"What happened here..?"
Was it just her imagination, or did his voice shake, just a little? No, that couldn't be.
"This was Hellmaster Phibrizzo's stronghold. Lina had to fight him, and destroyed him with a Giga Slave. That's what made it look like this."
She said it all in an almost offhand manner, knowing very well the meaning Lina and the Giga Slave had to him. Sure enough, he narrowed his eyes and shifted uncomfortably. Once again the thick silence spread through the night.
He looked at the frost covered ruins around him, trying to grasp the concept of time hidden there. Finally he gave up and turned to the girl once more. His voice was strained as he spoke.
"How long has it been? How long since I..."
He couldn't quite bring himself to finish the sentence, but she could see the question burning in his eyes.
"It's been almost two and a half years since the fall of Sairaag."
At first there was no sign he'd heard her. Then he sighed and raised a shaky hand to stroke a few wisps of hair out of his face.
"Two years."
His hand shaded his face so she couldn't see his eyes, but his defeated voice betrayed him.
She suddenly realized what a shocking experience rebirth like this must be. The thought came unbidden to her, and no matter how she tried to banish it with images of a burning Sairaag, it lingered. Lost in thought she jumped as he spoke again.
"And what happens now...?"
He looked up, those intense eyes seeking an answer in her own. A simple question, yet acknowledging her control of the situation.
She opened her mouth to answer, only to realize she had absolutely no idea what to say. The awkward silence was broken as her little fire hissed, the flames fighting a losing battle as the blackened firewood collapsed into cinders. Grateful for a chance to break the electric eye contact she returned to her stone slab to put a few more splinters of wood on the fire. All the while she glanced at the not quite human creature through the corner of her eye, a part of her still convinced he'd attack at any time.
He made no move to follow her, just pulled the shredded remains of his once-red cloak a little closer around himself in a feeble attempt to stay warm. Despite the freezing winter night, he preferred to stay in the cold shadows, rather than getting closer to the fire - and her sword.
He found himself wishing feverently for some time alone to think everything through. Fate, twisted as always, seemed to take great pleasure in throwing these nasty surprises at him. Hurled headlong back into the world, only to find the first thing at hand was to dig himself out of his own grave. After that, a long period of time filled with feverish glimpses of consciousness mixed with dreamlike flashbacks of memory. Then finally coming around, only to find one of his enemies from the past looming over him with that accursed sword...
All disturbing, to say the least. Time had passed since he was last alive, and the world seemed to have changed with it. There were still gaps in his memories, his mind still painfully slow and throbbing, aching to find answers. Right now, however, his main priority was to stay alive, the rest would have to wait.
Just like with Eris.
If you don't know what you're expected to say, then remain silent. Keep your head down and your eyes open, looking for an angle...
Sylphiel sat down, stirring the fire with a long stick, her other hand still clenching the hilt of the silver sword tightly. At least now she knew for sure her vision had been true, at least in one respect. However, there were still many unanswered questions spinning through her head. Why had the cloned creature they'd fought all those years ago suddenly come back to life? Why now? And where was the other element of her dream, the memento of Flagoon? She looked through the flames at the silent figure beyond the fire. Did he hold the answers to her questions? But if anything he had seemed even more confused than she. She frowned and gave the fire a good stab with her stick, only to have it catch fire itself. Frustrated she threw it into the flames and made up her mind.
"I had a vision."
He started and looked up as she spoke, a questioning look on his face.
"Last night, in my sleep, I saw that two things from the past would come to Sairaag this night. A 'seed of hope' and a 'shadow of the past'. That's why I'm here now. One of those things I saw, the shadow... It was you."
He studied her closely, his interest piqued. Did this blue-haired girl hold the answers to all those confusing 'how's and 'why's..? Although admittedly she looked rather confused and flushed, more like a frightened little girl than a keeper of sage truths.
"And the other..?"
His curiosity overruled his caution and he encouraged her to continue.
She remained silent for a while, pondering how to go on. The heat of the fire distorted the air and played tricks on her eyes; he looked like a devilish phantom behind the curtain of flames. Pinpoints of hellfire were reflected in his slitted pupils. Even in the faint light she could see how the Bless Blade had shredded his robes right over his heart, a tear surrounded by a darker stain. She shuddered in spite of herself.
Undead creature. Not quite human. Just a well made replica...
"The other... The other was a part of Flagoon. Something that would hold the key to its resurrection."
He frowned, a part of his mind feeling her words should make sense. He tried to follow that train of thought, inwardly cursing his still uncooperative mind. What had used to be flashing lightning of thought had become treacle of confusion, his weakness and vulnerability a constant distraction.
"Do you have it..?"
Her voice sounded almost threatening now. Whatever it was she was after, it was obvious she would fight for it if she felt it necessary. Once again he felt that extremely unpleasant tingle of fear tickle through him.
As if that flash of emotion had been the final catalyst needed, his mind suddenly provided him with the answer. His eyes opened wide as a short series of images flickered through his mind.
He lay dying before the mighty tree. His fingers clenching convulsively at the ground, trapping dirt and leaves in his fist. And then there had suddenly been calm, a presence that soothed him right before the end...
Rebirth. The digging, unconsciousness, and finally his attacking the blue-haired girl.
Never once had he opened his left hand.
He raised a trembling fist to his face, having to use all of his willpower to force his numb, stiff fingers open.
In the palm of his hand rested a small leaf, caught in his death grip all those years ago, green and flourishing as ever. The delicate network of roots and tiny vines emanating from it had formed a lace glove around his hand and fingers, pure and green against his ashen skin.
The story idea is mine, obviously, since I doubt anyone else has a weird enough mind to consider something like this. It was all based on a dream I had, actually. Amazing, now you know that too.
The quotes are from Oshiro-sama's Letters to a Red Priest (in other words, I made 'em up) and can't be used without my permission. If you ask nicely and give me credit you'll most likely get my permission, but anyways...
Many heartfelt thanks to Jen for actually encouraging me to write this, to Syrena for beta reading it and telling me it's good (don't hit her), and to Wendy for not smacking me too hard with that fish of hers...
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