At least it doesn’t hurt anymore, her stillness has numbed her body of pain, and she would have trembled if she could, but all her senses have long since disappeared. The tears she weeps no longer warm her cheeks, and it doesn’t help, doesn’t comfort her as it should, but she does it anyway. She thinks it’s what somebody 'whole' would do.
In the pitch-black cave, the darkness is overbearing, as heavy and unyielding as the Formorgar glacier. Banor’s fiery light has no place here. It is impossible to tell how long it has been. Her only way to get a sense of the time passing by is the rhythm of her heart, which grows ever fainter, and it’s gradually harder to tell the difference between sleep and consciousness, what is real and what isn’t, with nothing, nobody, to tether the remains of her soul to. The walls are closing in and she is utterly alone in the darkness.
No. No, not utterly alone. The people of her life, phantoms now, visits ever so often, more frequently as her heartbeat quiets, but their pale, placid faces show no hint of affection, no concern for her fate. Like marble statues, they look without seeing. One after another they fade in and out of her view. In life, she had known so many people, friends and family. Now, she wished she hadn’t. Their cold rejections would have seemed less pitiful. Begging and bargaining is of no use, and she can tell they do not want her. Not like this. Even if they did, someone like her couldn’t. Not now. Not after… no, it serves nothing to dwell on it. Soon she’d be let through the veil of eternal slumber. Just a few more heartbeats, a handful more dead-eyed faces. Then it’s finally over.
Ahh… there he is, she thinks to herself. The beautiful face before her is chiselled by laugh lines and age, but like the others, Othelen’s phantom face is blank and dead.
Equoez had met the elf recently in life as if by chance, and she quickly grew to trust his counsel. Whenever he left on his worldly travels, she would think of ways to make his return ever more delightful, to gain his love and approval. What she cherished the most was that he always gave it unconditionally, an ability she hadn’t been able to master herself. With every smile he offered, her conviction in herself would grow a little bolder, making her work harder towards her goals. For the first time since the sorcerer’s defilement, the vision of her mentor sparked an ember of hope in her heart.
She summons what little strength remained to her, but it isn’t enough. All she manages is a whimpering sob and then, a wash of sorrow and grief overtakes her. She convulses in a guttural wail, screaming her lungs out. Like a newborn drawn to the world, Equoez cries helplessly in hope of somebody coming to her rescue, most of all him.
Her mind yields then, and she succumbs to a daze again.
Why didn’t I tell him how much he meant to me while I still could? What difference did appearances make in the end, now that I am dying… alone. Oh, what I wouldn’t do for another chance. If I could just-
It hits her. I can tell him! The daze wears off briefly. He won’t hear me, but I can still tell him. Equoez’ sight wavers, but she manages to look the phantom straight in the eyes. She had to do it now before another face replaced his.
“I lo-“
Othelen’s gaze meet hers and she lose her breath. He sees her with those bright, kind eyes. But the kindness is gone, replaced by… desperation? Panic? It’s as if they scream in terror despite his placid face. The stark contrast sends jolts down her spine as she realizes this is no phantom. He is here. He has come for me!
Then came the whispers. They were too silent at first, but grew louder, all at once, one over another in incoherence, but she understood then. She had heard them before.
“Chamek ath uthul arak, chamek ath uthul arak, chamek ath uthul arak…”
A drop of Othelen’s tears fall on her forehead as he sweeps her up in his arms. She groans from the movement of the aching joints. Thin and frail, her tendons haven’t stretched for a long time, and they fight against the pressure of his grip. He isn’t gentle with her. Her head hangs at an odd angle, straining her neck, as he carries her out of the cave. With rigidity of a statue, he is being manipulated from afar.
Her consciousness fade in and out, but she remembers seeing bodies of dead minotaur along the path as they venture further into the depths below Mintwallin. Her hair is caught in a door and when her mentor yanks it free, she passes out.
In the darkness of her mind, a small speck of light appears at the centre of the universe. It grows brighter and consumes everything around it. It blinds her mind’s eye, and she isn’t allowed to go further. It greatly frustrates her, causing an overwhelming feeling of distress. Patience doesn’t help, so she tries to force through instead, but her form isn’t right, won’t fit. Something is missing. Something must have-
Pain beyond comprehension snaps her awake as she’s unceremoniously dumped before an ancient memorial stone. Othelen props her up on her knees, and she reads the plaque on the stone in front of her face.
Here died many brave minotaur to destroy the demons and their minions that have haunted this place.
She blinks in confusion but is too tired to care. A cruel hand grabs her by the stringy mess of hair and wrenches her head backwards. In the light of the surrounding lava, Equoez sees the true colour of the elf’s eyes now. The last remnants of Othelen have been consumed, and her final cry echoes through the chamber as the dark sorcerer runs his knife across her exposed throat.
Wayfarer of the Guardian Nomads
