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[PK Post] A Fading Ember


Valannor
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How long had she been sitting in that damnable cave for? Ruminating, contemplating… Memories faded and resurfaced, like the northern tides lapping at a rocky shore. For forty years, that flame, that dying ember of her piety shone true, kept alight by whatever scant kindling and bark she could scrounge up.

 

Anything to keep the flame lit; that searing fire, descendant from the First, and ne’er to be the Last, the holy enkindlement which she swore to shoulder the burden of all those years ago… And yet still, her promise was kept. Through the trials and tribulations of her demise, lost to the dying throes of Aegis’ corpse, her faith remained strong, hardy and unbreakable like the Krag in ages yore. Indeed, had she slipped the surly jaws of the here-after to keep to her duties once more, where none other would. 

 

And in this, she found herself outcast. She set forth as soldiery upon the Korvassa, to the begrudging acceptance of her former kin, and she saw that which she could never imagine; the death of a god, at the hands of the smallest of goblins. A bewildering sight, a sobering thought indeed… And in this, she did not find solace. For in her life, she slew many a beast and cur, not least of which was the first among the damned spawn of the blackened arts, but even this could not bring her that which she truly sought. 

 

Forlorn and bedamned be she, entombed in self-imposed exile among the northern wastes, tending to a dying Flamebrand in a desperate attempt to keep herself sane throughout it all. Her order, shattered and built anew in but bare semblance of what it was. Her duty, shirked by others of the Flame as they sought petty mortal dalliances. Her kin, slain or lost to the foulest curse e’er known to Horen’s kin; Time. She found herself consumed by many things… rage, apathy, woe and sorrow all the same. And as that flame made to fade, ne’er to know henceforth the light of the Allfather’s raging sun…

 

A hand extended in offering, a chipped piece of bark to stave off the end. Her own hand extended, taking the stranger’s own in trembling semblance of what could vaguely be considered ‘hope’ by those of the living realms, desperate eyes widened and a weary smile tugged at ethereal lips. 

 

The Flame has been lit.

 

A Keeper of the Flame is born anew.

 

And the mantle of the last true Purifier is passed on. 

 

“Verði eldur.”

 

Spoiler

And finally, Chryssa's tale comes to a slightly more permanent end. Thanks to everyone who made my first persona a blast to play, but the time came to shoot her in the head.

 

o7 folks.

 

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Spoiler

 

Somewhere far from where they had met sat Ezyl, reminiscing alone. The bitter cold of the north washed over her, though she opted to ignore it. Memories of that strange woman, cloaked in the garb of Ezyl's mother's people came rushing back. "Odd..." She'd murmured to her faithful dog, Oddwig. "I've not heard from Chryssa in some years. I hope she's found peace, somewhere out there. She seemed...lost in a way I can't put into words...but then again I suppose we all were back then."

 

Memories of meeting the Purifier, of her frustration at the woman's tolerance of the ghost that traveled with her outside of Farrador's walls came back from some corner of the Paladin's mind, where they'd been neatly folded and tucked away. Of the Purifier's hunt for Shades, of their hunt for shades together with Anduin. Pale fingers retracted from the fire that kept them warm, wrapping tightly around the vial of cinnamon which hung from a length of leather at her neck. "You taught me more than you'll know. I wonder what purpose you seek with the shades gone, what great quest your aesyr has sent you on now." A small exhale of laughter, a fine visible hue of fog from her body's warmth in the barren north's frost. "You'd better send a bird someday, someone like you can't die. Its beyond reason." Her gaze swept to the rising sun, ice at the cave's entrance glimmering in all of its beauty. "But...if, like most I held close, you did...All-Father guide you to his Halls, Purifier Chryssa....and tell my family I miss them." 

Edited by rukio
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In that decisive moment the Stranger did proffer a hand unto the Keeper. It was an offer, a promise to uphold that sacred duty with which the Keeper had fought so hard to maintain.

As the offer was extended, so did the Keeper accept and thus clasp hands with the Stranger and in doing so seal their fates forevermore.

For now they would be bound to each other, one soul intertwined with another in unholy matrimony for the rest of time.

As the  Stranger fell to their knees they would be left alone in that cavernous space, with but a single hand clutched to their chest. A solemn vow escaping their lips.

"And with this, the torch is passed on. As one flame dies, another is kindled."

With those final words the Keeper of the Flame is born anew.

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