[PK] And so, the Wheel turns

[ProcaPro 557]

Spoiler

 

"Think Of Me Once In A While, Take Care" - Take Care

 

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“When you die, you will die with nothing.”

 

Naya had long forgiven her father for those words. He was angry. She was too, and people do things when they’re angry. It had rung hollow then.

 

But here, and now, there was no hollowness in those words. She knew from the moment Athri had blocked the stairs that this was it. This was the moment, the edge of life, the end of her existence. Every moment had led here, to this office. This office where she’d first seen the Ak’vei, the office where she’d comforted others, where she’d cried, where she’d assured Athri that she was alright if she died, that she didn’t mind the thought. Once again, she reassured him. Once again, she’d offered him a smile. And now, she was faced once more with the disappointed face of a person she’d considered a father, and Naith’s biting words. This was the place where her life had once changed for the better. Once.

 

51 years.

 

She’d made it longer than she was supposed to. She was supposed to die in her twenties, fighting in the Coalition War, some sort of virtue still in her heart. She was supposed to die on the battlefield. She was supposed to die in that little boat in Balian. She was supposed to do it to herself a long time ago. And yet, she had never had the strength, not even when she had been given the choice to kill herself rather than be killed. But she was supposed to die a good person, proving her father wrong, dying with everything she could grasp and hold and keep dear to her heart.

 

“And you will look back and regret all you have done.”

 

‘Ah,’ Naya had thought, in those fleeting last moments of life, her neck broken open and blood pouring in a torrent, her life flickering out of existence like a flame. She had burned herself out, her candle having grown too fiery, her wick run out, the wax of her existence melted away. ‘He was right.’ The horror of it, now acceptance. She thinks of her child, her baby in soul if not flesh. Her husband, Aithwin. Her brothers, Godwin, Sydney, Sariel. Her only sister, Malna. Her killers, once friends, once family. In her very last moment, her very last thought, she wondered if she had left the fireplace lit.

 

Naya Al-Jabir Aldor, born Naya Barakat to unknown travelers in SA 130, a wanderer of the world, a hoarder of knowledge, five times a sister, twice a mother, once a wife, always a soldier, had died how she knew she would: Violently, angrily, coated in blood and regretting, and alone like her father had predicted 38 years ago. She had died like her mother, and she had died alone.

 

Her soul would never see the skies. In death, the hells clawed at her, her existence torn into Moz Strimosa, doomed to the eternal climb as she reached and cried out desperately for anything else to claim her in the depths of her soul. She’d sought to escape the climb, first by running, then by embracing. She had fought, she had bled, she had bargained… But chaos claims all, in the end.

 

And so, the Wheel turns.

 

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In several parts of the world, a high elven woman would simply disappear, as if she had never existed. Her homes would go untouched, and unpaid, not a fleck of white hair or veil to be seen. Adya, a doctor, an alchemist, a scholar, was gone. Her concept was torn from the world as Naya was, the idea of her going with the mind that created her. Nobody would ever see her again, and nobody would ever see a body. A woman would be missing her doctor, a magister her alchemist, a teacher his student. The last shreds of kindness had been kneaded into Adya’s existence, poured in from Naya, used as a last way to give to the world instead of take.

 

But she had never been her own person to exist past Naya in the first place, and so Naya took her with her, never to tell or explain.

 

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Settled in Naya's study, several letters would be found.

 

Given to those who knew Naya, these letters are not public information.

 

Aithwin:

Spoiler

Aithwin, love of mine. Shamsi, Azizi, hamimi,

 

If you are reading this, I am gone. There are things I must tell you, things I will never get to. I’ve stayed awake many nights writing, and trashing, and writing again. I suppose the first thing I can say is I love you, wind under my wings. I have loved you since the first I realized how you shined in the moonlight at the pond. My Sun, even in Balian you were the brightest warmth I had ever known, days were cold without you.

 

I know you may find days colder without me, too. I want you to stay strong, stay around. For our son, for my memory. I was not a good woman, I need you to accept that when I’m gone. Please, bring me your favorite flowers, so I can once more behold what you have tended to in my death. Do not go down my route. Live, and die, still kind in soul, still whole. Be an artist like we spoke of, even. I loved the drawings I got to see from you.

 

Tusbih Alaa Khair, Shamsi.

 

I will not be waiting in the skies for you, we know this, but I will hold you to me in memory when the hells take all else. Be there for the others. Let Fynn know I loved him, however long or short I came to know him for. I hope when this reaches you, he is old enough to remember me. I will have it so the letters I write him will be held by you until he's ready, at your discretion. I hope it will be a very large stack of letters.

 

Remember the Rains,

 

-Lifst

Spoiler

Fynn,

 

My boy, I hope it is a very, very long time before you get this. As I write it now, you are but a baby, but I know you will grow. Every milestone, I will write a new letter. You will have a whole stack to look back on, my little star, of words from your Ummi. I am so excited to see you sprout. I wonder what your first words will be, I am eager to hear them. How I gaze on you and see a treasure. I will love you and Aithwin when all else is dust, I believe. How could once not? You are small, and sweet, and perfect. I can tell already your future is bright, Namji.

 

-Your Ummi, Naya

 

Godwin:

Spoiler

Godwin,

 

My dearest brother, you imp, how I have felt the ebb of your company in these years, your jokes however crass, your poetries. How I have longed for times when we were in that little boat. How you have grown, from that gangly teen to a man, with a family, with a life and love. I have so missed you. I have so worried for you, I have lain awake hoping for your safety. This will be my last letter to you. If this is in your hands I am gone to the Hells, lost to it. Calleina, beautiful child she is, has one of the best men I have ever known as a father, one of the kindest, most compassionate. In honor of our beginnings, I write you a poem.

 

To know you is like to know a breeze,

To flow along with full-felt ease,

And when I see you set to shine,

I’m glad to say: Brother of mine.

 

Continue on for me. I will miss you dearly when the time comes. Please, be there for everyone. Be kind. Don't lose that light in you. I know you, I know it will be hard, but I want you to remember that I loved you, brother, and when I die we both know I will die accepting of it. You'll need to accept it, too.

 

Remember the Rains,

 

-Your Ukhti, Naya

 

Sydney:

Spoiler

Sydney, My Brother,

 

If this is with you, I am gone. I am sorry. I am so proud of you, have I said that? I am always so proud of you. I remember, decades ago, when Godwin dragged you to the Moot talking about you breaking into mansions. I am glad I didn’t arrest you. Now look at you, a protector, a fighter, strong, able to weather whatever storms come. You are so bitingly intelligent, so truly and completely your own. You are smart. Godani, I have met few that can match you in wit. Keep it sharp. You are a good man, I know this, you have always been good. Stay good. You know I’m not like I once was. We have stood on opposite paths since we met, and it seems we will never tread the same for long, no matter how hard we try.

 

I do all for my family. It is not enough. Don’t lose yourself. Be you, I beg you.

 

Remember the Rains,

 

-Naya, Your Sister

 

Malna:

Spoiler

Malna, Ukhti,

 

You are the only sister I have ever known, and I am glad it was you. I am gone, if you hold this in your hands. We knew, eventually, it would come. Fret not, I am sure I went out fighting. Calleina has a good mother, she’s lucky. Perhaps Fynn and her will come to know each other. Either way, you are my sister. You are warm, comforting, and kind. All the qualities I have idolized, in others. I have always envied how easy being good came to you, how kindness came to you. You, as kind as you are, have always been such a light in a world of dark. I care for you, I’ll miss you. Try to be safe for once, for me.

 

Remember the Rains,

 

-Your Sister, Naya

P.S. I’ve attached to this a book of my recipes. They’re for you.

[Accompanying would be a booklet of Naya’s recipes.]

 

Sariel:

Spoiler

Sariel,

 

If you read this, I am dead. I am sorry. I’ve stuck through as long as I can, but know not once I have ever given up on you. I am afraid for us. I have seen you in dark places, I have stood with you and stared into the precipice of madness, and I have fallen into it. My mind is in ruin, and I am afraid. You have hope. You still have a chance. For all the darkness nestled into you, you have a chance. Don’t let it go.

 

I love you, as my brother, as my friend. I have missed you, often. You need to eat well, take care of yourself, and keep hope. I want you to keep hope. You need to keep trying. You promised me, do not forget that. I see in you the seeds of my inevitable fate. Don’t nurture them. Be better, than I was, if you can. And I know you can.

 

Remember the Rains,

 

-Naya

[Attached is a drawing, in Naya’s usual style, of her and Sariel having a snowball fight. Also included is a small booklet of recipes.]

 

Athri'annyer:

Spoiler

Athri,

 

I’m going to admit, even though I may be overstepping, sometimes you remind me of my father. Not the man that was my father, to clarify, but better perhaps. My own was not a kind man, he was cruel at times. Perhaps you wouldn’t call yourself kind, either, but you were to me. You saw something that I still can’t see. I am not a good woman, yet I have desperately wanted to be. I fought to be. Can I admit to you that I’m tired? I try, I keep trying. I feel that, shortly, I will lose my mind. I don’t want to. I’m sorry, for everything I have done to cause you to lose faith in me. I think sometimes I might do it on purpose, maybe it’s easier for me to make mistakes.

 

I’m dead. That’s the point of this, I am dead. I hope I die kindly. I hope I die in the company of those I care about and who care about me. But if this is sent, I suppose we will never be able to know. You opened my mind, you know, to things I had once been so fearful of. You made a scholar of me, a learner, eager to explore the world around me rather than stay stuck in walls, under people who didn’t care to treat me kindly. What words exist in the world, to say thank you to someone who taught me so much? There are no combinations I can think of to encapsulate what it was to know you, to learn from you, to learn how to handle the world in symbols and potions and create out of something that had once scared me so. But I am still scared. I am afraid of myself now. I see people, and I see the violence I could inflict, and I feel tempted. As I write this, I feel so little of myself I fear the clarity I feel writing this will die once I stop writing. I feel I may die. What am I to become, when I can no longer fight, but must lay down and let whatever take me as it will? I wanted to be a teacher, an artist. Will I never get the chance?

 

I suppose it won’t need to be worried about anymore, when you read this. Will you miss me? Will Naith? Will anyone? I think I want to die, I can’t stop the inevitable. The wheel is turning, Athri, it will turn and turn, and will never stop. I hope you remember me for what I was and not what I am, now. 

 

Thank you, for being as a father to me,

 

-The Devoted Alchemist, Naya

 

Naith:

Spoiler

Naith,

 

If you are recieving this, I am dead. I know it probably is not a surprise to you, you were always better at predictions than anyone I knew. I know I am a liability to you, a loose end. I am almost worried that maybe you will be relieved when I die. I would not blame you. I wish I was a better person, but I think I have accepted that I am not. Still, despite it, you tried to help me. Even if it was only for Athri's sake, and not mine, you tried to help me. I am grateful. I will admit, my distance had been out of fear of you, you frighten me. I know not why, but you do. I hope sincerely that by the time this reaches you, if ever, that we are closer friends, and that I have somehow managed to be a good person despite it all. If I have not, can you remember me when I was kind? I have forgotten it myself, what it felt like to love being kind and giving kindness. I think, when I saw my changed face for the first time, a piece of me withered with the loss of my face. I do not feel connected to myself anymore, and I may never.

 

But no matter. I am grateful, still. Thank you for all you have done. I hope we are friends when you read this,

 

-Naya

 

 

Iolas:

Spoiler

Iolas,

 

I'm sorry. This is the last time you will hear it, I promise, but I am sorry. As of writing this, we got to talk again, and I have to say I was happy to see you. Unfortunately, this letter means I am dead, though. I hope we have talked more by time you get this, but if not, I hope all your pursuits end well. You want to do great and lofty things, and you will. Whatever people may say, I think you have a capacity to cause change in the world. I can only hope I live to see it.

 

-Naya

 

Dame Gwenyth:

Spoiler

Gwen,

 

It’s been too long. I hope, by the time this reaches you we’ve managed to talk again, to catch up. I have missed you. Out of all the people in Balian, you are one I have missed the most. I think moving to Kaethul was one of my biggest mistakes to be honest. You were right, I was wrong. As usual. You were always a bit wiser than me, Sadeeq. But when you read this, if you do, I will already be dead and gone. I must admit to you, you will not see me in the skies. So much happened, so much shame sits in my soul.

 

I am destined for the Hells, for Moz Strimosa. A piece of my soul belongs to it, and when I die so too will the rest of me join. I will never see you again, not even in death. I am resigned to the infernal climb, to eat or be eaten until the end of it all. I will not see Annette, my father, my mother… anyone. I’ve made my peace with it. I’m sorry you’ve had to hear this way, if I did not already tell you. Be safe, be prepared. The world will reach, and it will tear everything it can from everyone it can take from. Don’t let it. Remember me as I was in kinder times, if you can.

 

-Naya

 

Viktoria:

Spoiler

Viktoria,

 

I am sorry to have visited so little. You have grown so much, from a blossom to a tree. Strong, dependable. Seeing your Knighting ceremony is one of the favorite occasions I have attended. I am sorry I will not see you grow more. This letter means I am dead, gone. If only it was to the skies, but I find that dread fills my heart when I think of saying more to you. I protected you all I could, before I became not as I was. Now, as I sit far away writing this, I wish I had stayed in Balian sometimes. Damned be whatever issues I had with your father, or the Armada, or personally. But here we are.

 

I hope, by time this is needed to send, you remain safe, and kind. I hope you're able to do what I was not, and protect those you care for, and yourself. I have a son now, Fynn Bassam Al-Jabir Aldor. I hope you have gotten to meet him. I hope a lot of things now a days, I can't do much but hope. Even that wanes. I am glad though, to know of you when I can. This is a farewell though, you know. All things come to an end, including life. I wish there was a place where we could meet in death, but there is not. There should never be a world where we meet again in death. You are not made for Moz Strimosa, it is not reserved for you like it is me. Just know I cared for you, deeply. Keep the hairpin safe.

 

-Naya

 

Katherine:

Spoiler

Katherine,

 

Tiffli, Sadeeq, I am sorry for my continued absence. I have been gone a long time, I know this. I regret that this letter means I am dead. I hope by time it reaches you I’ve had the chance to send more before it. Much has happened. I hope you’ve been healthy, and happy. I hope you’ve dipped your hands into the world and created something out of the chaos of it all. You certainly could, bright as you are.

 

I am rambling. Please do be safe, that’s my greatest wish for you, your safety.

 

-Naya

 

Ilya:

Spoiler

Ilya,

 

You have been my friend for a long time, since the death in Balian. I have seen much destruction alongside you, though by the time you get this I am dead. Keep surviving, with your purity and all. You always did seem the more capable of the two of us. I kept that rug safe, you know, for years. I never forgot that kindness, even if you did make me pay 5 mina for it, shrewd as you are.

 

I will not see the skies. We know this. But I at least hope you’ll continue to live well, with your family. Let Miss Eadwynn know Adya won’t be coming back. But I think she’ll figure it out eventually. If you could, would you go back to Balian? I do not mean physically, I mean when we existed there in tandem. I do not know myself.

 

-Naya

 

O'zen:

Spoiler

O’zen,

 

I sometimes think of that spot at the temple, where we drank like we did. I had another letter before, for when you weren’t dead. But you are now, and in an odd twist of fate if you get this, I am too. Maybe it is odd to write you a letter now, after everything, after that hell I felt from your living self. But you are not her, anymore. I said it once before, I am grateful for that. But I still think about when I had a friend and not a tormentor. I regret much. Either way, I suppose I will have little chance to regret in the Hells. I know it will all catch up with me eventually.

 

You got lucky, you know. Very lucky, with your undeath and your escape from the hells. I hope we have finished our lessons, by time you get this. You were my first student, and I admit it has been a joy to teach you. I feel like a person again, when I teach. Not whatever shell Sermi helped create, but me. Ironic, is it not, that I regain a feeling of humanity teaching an undead how to make potions?

 

Not that it will matter much now, since again, this letter means I am dead. Use your knowledge well. 

 

-Naya

 

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Spoiler

OOC:

 

It's been a wild ride, since I started LotC, from my first week getting kidnapped by Ferrymen in Balian, to the war my first month, to all the things I've experienced in the community. I'm far from done with LotC, but I can't say that losing Naya, my first character on this server, is easy. But time marches on.

 

 

To @NovumChase , @AuJy , @sapphic_spidy , @bonesxii_ , @KillerMaid , @kuebiko , thank you. The Moot was a strange and wonderful thing started from a silly encounter and grown to something character defining. I am so genuinely grateful to have met you guys as early as I did, and to have had the interactions with Naya that I did thanks to you guys. It was an absolutely insane path full of crazy twists, and I wouldn't trade that experience for anything in the world.

 

@HIGH_FIRE , @retro , @_yink_ , @oryP , Balian accepted me right off the bat, and taught me a lot. I mean a lot. You guys were an absolute joy to RP with at all times. I really think I wouldn't have been able to grow as comfortable with the server as I am now if it wasn't for the help. My time in Balian didn't last forever with Naya, but it was a joy to experience, thank you for that.

 

@WhatASithuation , @Halfirate , @Ewdrawings , @Caedis ,  and all I ended up connected to in Kaethul, I am absolutely ecstatic I got to experience it. Twists and turns aside, thank you for giving me the time and patience, and for allowing me to learn alchemy and things I had barely understood when I first joined the server. I made Naya to learn about the world as I did, and learn I did. The teachings, opportunities, and moments made me learn alongside Naya and it was such a joy to experience. Thank you for all of it.

 

@Karina , @TimberBuff , you guys were amazing to experience the unfolding story of Naya's whole mess with. I'm sorry I didn't go very far, but I am very glad that I experienced what I did in rp with y'all. What a journey, honestly. I couldn't have asked for better people to explore darker things and magics with. Thank you for the opportunities and time I was granted, I learned a lot for sure with you two.

 

I'm excited to see what LOTC holds in the future for me and my other characters. Here's hoping to more interesting RP moments to come!

Edited May 22, 2024 by ProcaPro

[AuJy 273]

Somewhere in the woods... mounting seclusion and introspectiveness a bard is housed. His arrival is recent, having just returned from an aviary with letters in his hand, and a weeks supply of berries from the nearby bushes he had plucked along his route. As he sits near his fire he tosses several of the letters into a fire.

 

Recently divorced... recently without a sister... a heart of vengeance smolders within him having little in the way of happiness nor joy at the moment. He scans through the stack of letters he had brought home and finds one addressed to him... written in his sister's hand.

 

Tears immediately stream down his face as he slowly opens the letter, tearing away at the envelope that housed it. He scans it over... smiling, chuckling, as his sister calls him an imp for the final time from beyond this realm. He bites his lip as he reads the poem and begins to punch his leg. He chuckles outright, and before long he starts to weep a sorrow-filled cry of longing, shame, regret, confusion... every negative emotion imaginable cradled in a laugh of tears.

 

The nearby birds flutter away from his camp, as his mournful cries overpower the nature.

 

The scene is set.

 

Remember the Rains.

[Karina 1882]

Empty, dead eyes settled on the letter. Reading it once, twice – even thrice over – there was a sting to it. Death was an inevitable part of their profession. Part of the inherent cycle. Had she truly been lucky, escaping it? Caught in some sort of sentimental purgatory. The hunger never ceasing to fully leave her gut. 

Denial was an effective tool. But one she had forgotten how to use. The grim reality of the world is that even now, Calamity followed them. Their plans. Chaos was as certain as an ending. Her living self. It had been years, now. The memories were as strong as ever, even if the emotions almost felt alien.

Torment was an understatement. She had gone out of her way to ruin this woman. Gone out of her way to break her mind, tear her away from her family. Rid the world of every spec of good that might have festered in her heart and proven to be problematic. 

Was she truly not herself anymore? 

What did it mean to be Sermi? To read this letter, and be reduced to tears? They no longer flowed down her cheek, as they used to. Even the anger that bubbled up in her gut only came through as a passing ache. The endless numbness of her existence swallowed even her grief up.
 

Did it mean to be afraid? To be broken? The infernal court started what Sarryn eventually finished. Reducing her to a shell of her former self, incapable of anything but hate. Even the concept of love itself was singed by malflame and a steady hand. Just as they had done to Laelia. Just as she had done to Naya. 

This was her fault.

The first quill that settled into her fingertips was snapped in half. The second, she scribed so hard it tore parchment. It wasn’t until the third attempt that she managed fine enough control over her muscles to scrawl down a plea. 

She had escaped the Hells. It wasn’t too late for her, she thought, and they owed it to the other to try. Buried in memory, buried in sentiment, was the one truth she had long delayed speaking of. Now, it was too late. This was all she could do. 

Regret sat heavily on her tongue. 

[sapphic_spidy 1089]

"You should take care of yourself well. Do not find yourself in the wrong crowd, no matter what."

"This doesn't end with Naya's death, Sydney."

"No- where is she? Cormath, Kaethul?"

 

"You both lost family today."

 

Sydney knew before he got the letter. Athri told him.

 

"I'm not asking for your forgiveness Syd. But you deserve to know the truth."

 

And he did. He knew the truth for a while. But he couldn't accept it. She was changing, she wasn't the Naya he once knew, even if he still loved her. He knew it. But accepting it... That wasn't possible.

 

He was angry, he was seething, he wouldn't let himself stop moving, writing, running, thinking. Because he knew if he did he would do what Veluc told him not to do. Find himself in the wrong crowd. 

He doesn't know what happens now. What he will become. But he will not become someone Naya wouldn't have been proud to have as a brother. He won't.

 

You are a good man, I know this, you have always been good. 

He breaks down. He breaks. He sobs, screams, throws a bottle at the wall. A bottle he refuses to drink from, if he starts he won't be able to stop, and that's not who he'll be. 

 

Stay good.

He will, he will, he swears he will. 

There's no point in vengeance, he won't lose himself to that, he won't lose himself, he swears it, he won't.

 

Naya, his first family in over a decade, who never gave up on him, even when it would have been easy. The sister he never had, the sister he always wanted. Naya. Oh, Naya. He thought she'd be there. Always be there. How stupid. He knew things were going downhill years ago, when Naya was told to call off her dog, and he backed down, he did, because it was for her, and he'd do anything for her. 

 

He can't accept the bad. He won't think of Naya as bad. Because she wasn't. Maybe it was a mercy she was killed before she could really change fully. 

 

He thinks of his last memory of her. Holding together his still broken wrist until he could get proper medical attention, joking with him. Being there. Being alive. 

 

He will cling onto those memories. 

 

Maybe he'll see her face again.

She will always be there, even if she's gone.

 

Her gifts to him. Her letters. He holds them all, now, reading all of her words, all of them. 

 

His sister is dead.

 

He adds another hash to the bone of his naginata. 

Four now, for the family he has lost. 

 

Goodbye, Naya. 

 

------------

 

Somewhere far away, aging hands receive a letter.

 

Katherine feels a lump in her throat. One of the three people she ever felt she belonged with.

 

Maybe- maybe they can make her into a ghoul! Maybe... so a part of her can remain. Maybe... 

 

Naya's words are... the only thing that have ever made her second guess herself. Her choice. Not even his biting words, or his doubt, or her abandonment made her wonder if she did the right thing.

 

But it is too late to go back.

 

Maybe we can make her into a ghoul... Maybe I can convince him...

 

-------------

 

Castien does not receive a letter. 

Castien never knew Naya. 

 

Adya forgot to pay her rent again, he thinks, going on about his life as usual.

Edited May 22, 2024 by sapphic_spidy

[KillerMaid 636]

Ar-Malna.... now Annika looked down at the note, sighing 

 

"...... I'm sorry I am weak, that I was stupid Naya. I'm going to make myself safe... even if the rest of you may hate me." 

 

She tried not to cry, setting the letter on fire. She left her daughter with Godwin, thinking he would move on as he did from his previous lover. She hopes they are all ok. 

 

"Annika, can you help me with something?"

 

Annika took in a breath, going to smile as she left her stool by the goats she was milking, walking inside to a warm home—a new one. 

 

"I'm always here to help." It is what she said, always had said..... she regrets saying it every day.

[Cheese 8882]

Maybe there was a twinge of remorse in Juniper’s heart as she was delivered the news, some time later. No, more than a twinge. There was blood on her hands too, even if she had not wielded that blade.

 

And then Naya’s words to her echoed. Flashes of Juniper’s own son, bleeding out, crossed her visage.

 

With a sigh, Juniper pressed a kiss to her sleeping child’s head, and she whispered, “It had to be done.”

 

Maybe she would be damned some day too, similar to the now deceased woman. But until then, Juniper would have to silently drown in her guilt. There was work to be done, and people to protect.

 

Spoiler

Naya was a wonderful character, I enjoyed the time I spent with her even if they weren’t always positive interactions!! Wish you all the best, friend!

 

Edited May 22, 2024 by Cheese
mobile formatting grrrr

[_yink_ 578]

Gwenyth had grown used to the idea of death when it came to the ones she loved. By now, she was numb. Or at least she thought she was. She'd been sent two letters nearly back to back brought to her by her eagle. One came much earlier in the day and sent a shiver down Gwenyth's spine. Simple words, 'Naya is dead' stared straight back up at her as she sat at her desk. Luckily enough for Gwenyth, she was alone. There were no tears, at least not yet. "Nie, Naya doesn't die. Not after what the lass has been through," She reasoned, dismissively waving her hand and setting the letter aside to scold Sydney over later. This would only remain a nagging thought at the very back of Gwenyth's mind until hours later. The second letter.

There was nothing unusual about Gwenyth receiving countless letters through the day, but one from Naya in the mix? A smile tugged at Gwenyth's scarred lips as hope surged through her body. "Ea fuckin' knew it..." She let out a sigh of relief and sent her eagle off into the evening sky as she settled herself on the roof of Aquilae, her training grounds. "She's likely reaching back out tae find a proper time tae meet," She chuckled softly and slid her thumb under the seal, popping the letter open. 

Skimming, Gwenyth's eyes settled over the words 'dead and gone.' A moment, then a double take as Gwenyth rushed to read from the top. This process would repeat every thirty seconds, or even ten as she found herself in complete disbelief for quite some time. Her heart pounded in her chest, her hands fumbled and her body began to shake as she eventually broke out into silent, intermittent sobs. Her entire body ached until it eventually gave out. In the space where Gwenyth felt safest, she was now a wreck. Her last words to Naya had been to call her a fool for moving away. She could never apologize or say goodbye.

[xo31 3979]

"I should've dedicated more time to helping her." was Arthur's regretful tone. "Perhaps she can be brought back- to find her peace. . . god knows she deserves it."

[WhatASithuation 210]

Athri upon receiving the letter retreated into the privacy of his office. The only place he was comfortable being truly alone, locking his gates. At least it used to be that way. Now the space was tainted, the images of Naya laying on the floor, her neck, brutally broken. Blood sprawled on  the walls, himself. His hands. 
 

His hands shook, reading through the letter. It did not come to him as a surprise. A father. Athri tried to be different from his biological father, there, supportive. He’d protect those he loved from the horrors of the world. He tried everything he could to save her. But when whom he considered a daughter had given up, had gone back - had stopped fighting. He couldn’t let her hurt others. He knew she would change. Athri owed Naya at least that much. He had to do something before it was too late. If, maybe he followed her wishes and killed her sooner. She’d be in the seven skies. He waited too long, stubborn to crawl to success.  To defeat Sarryn. To free her from manipulation. Maybe Jenny’s influence was in fact bad on him. He wanted to be a hero. He failed. He taught Naya too much. She was dangerous.
 

Athri would miss her. He would remember her for what she was. He loved her. The guilt would never fade. Bringing her to Kaethul. Sending her to the hells. His knees grew weak and he fell, hunched over, clenching the letter yet tears did not follow. Desensitized. His motivation, gone. Athri was at this moment, utterly defeated. 
 

He was cursed.
 

Every child he’d cared for. Murdered, missing, or mentally broken. Not once, or twice, but four times. But this was different. This fifth time, he would never recover. To take that life with his own hands. To make the conscious choice. To sacrifice all his friendships, his bonds, for they all loved Naya. He only told Sydney. He could only say it once - and he knew  Sydney would get the job done. He always did. His once right hand man. His once upon a time to be best man. No longer. 
 

He’d never have a child of his own blood. He’d never take on another ward. He wouldn’t abandon his existing students, that did stick by him after this- but after. He’d never lead or teach again.

[Apotolofo 2204]

A heartless being only grinned upon hearing the news. "Ha! I only lament it wasn't my hand that killed her." The fallen princess snickered. "Oh well- one down, one to go." 

 

------

 

On the other hand, Hera cried tears of gold. "I'm sorry, Naya. I wish. . ." That prayer was left open to the air. . . For what use was an empty hope? 

[Halfirate 135]

Relief had been the last thing on Naith's mind during the last few days. The letter written in her name was hardly any different, in that regard. The Naya that she knew was a kind soul. Pure, self-sacrificing. She'd offered up her own life time and time again for those around her, and it was difficult to forget that stalwart determination. She respected it.

 

In the end, the one who fell was not her. It hadn't been her in a long while. They'd eaten her from the inside out, and what was left to be destroyed was a walking husk, in the eyes of that alchemist.

 

What did cross her mind, was how she'd watched the woman fall. Her thoughts often trailed to the day that she stood by her side, vouching and bartering against the Overlord to spare her life against sharp stakes of voidal stone. The two had been quite merry only minutes before.

Then, the day she'd lost her skies, and the oath Naith had made that night. She would save her, she'd told the embodiment of Charity, or she'd be the one to end her. 

 

A lot happened between then and beyond, and it all melded together. Yet even still, as she was forced before the pools of truth, her goal remained steadfast:

 

Save her, or end her. Give her a chance.

 

Yet even if you do everything right, you can still fail.

 

She'd made the call in the end. This blood was on her hands, and those last words Naya spoke to her were something that she'd never be able to wash off. Naith saw herself in Naya, perhaps. Up until the very end, the two ran excruciatingly parallel paths in ways that only the living would recognize.

 

"You're a lot like ■■■■■■, I've noticed. I think that's why I've been hesitant."

 

That day, the alchemist set a pyre ablaze on the very same beach they'd sparred on a few months ago, in memory of her friend, Naya.

[Rushodan 191]

Kiyoshi was filled with dread once the news hit him. He had torn himself to shreds to try and save her, failing time and time again. Even if Naya had stumbled down the wrong path, she was at least alive and. . . not anymore. The devils sat on his shoulders, taunting the young 'ame over his countless failures:

 

"Everything you touch turns to ruin, Kyrell." A voice whispers in his ear.

 

"You don't deserve companionship. You're just a tool. You exist only to do as you are told and even that is often too difficult for you." Echos in the mind, the elf looking down at the sword sitting on his lap. He could do it, here and now. Resolve a lot of peoples problems.

 

"I hate you!" Some of the last words spoken by his prior lover. The elf raises the blade to his stomach, taking in a deep breath and bracing with both arms. . .

 

But then the face of his Sensei filled his mind. There was a well-too-known look of disappointment on her features. The stories of her students countless failures. . .

 

No. The others would have to wait to achieve their satisfaction. The devils banished for another short while and blade returned to his hip. He was not going to let the last person that retained any sort of faith in him down. He was no longer Kyrell the Slave. He was Kiyoshi, Retainer of the Ugokoyama Clan.

 

The yosei returns to the village, thinking of his late friend Naya. He would build a shrine to what she stood for.

 

And oh, there would be blood. Vengeance for another friend lost. 

[𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑙𝑠 814]

The Devil had only come to know Naya once- when she had sunk her blade through the woman's side, as her hands wrapped around the White Cat's throat. She remembered the warmth of Naya's blood on her claws. Had it been mercy, then?

                                   "Play nice. Don't kill her."
"She tried to kill you..."
                                   "Be good, Laelia."

Had it been good, then? To leave her alive? To leave her with the cat, the hound, to be torn apart. One more sin to add to the list, one more person yet failed. She had wanted and wanted and thought, in time- in time she would go back, for those whose throats were being stepped on.

And in time, she forgot. She forgot as she always did. Be good, Be good, Be good.

Naya would not get that chance, now. Did they know, what they had sentenced Naya to? Is it good to die?

[graveyard_bones 213]

In a sea of regret, a singular man stands. 

 

He doesn’t shed a tear, he doesn’t scream into the night's empty void- he stares. He stares at the letter in hand, standing in Kaethul, feeling gentle waves crash upon his ankles. Something to feel other than crushing grief, something he hadn’t felt since his mother passed. A thumb presses over the creases on paper, flattening them out, gazing at the drawing held in hands, one real, one fake. His mind is blank, perpetually pushing each word etched with love into the forefront of his mind. With a lump in his throat that refuses to die, choking back sobs as reality hits him, he couldn’t bear the heartbreak. 

 

Yet, tears never form.

 

He remembers snow crashing into his back, the competitive-filled pursuit they had, snowballs in hands, desperately attempting to reach that third hit. Ducking, cowering, scooping, crushing- it almost makes him laugh. In the blistering cold, standing proudly on that boulder, did Naya win.

 

Sariel stared at her with disbelief, soon rolling his eyes- a dramatic, drawn out sigh following afterwards. 

 

And he wonders, could he build a snowman, adorn it with fake twigs as hair, and have a snowball fight with it? A husk of what she is? Could he win? Could he carve a one next to his name on that very stone? Has it withered away with time? Will she, along with his memories of her, wither away with time?

 

In a blind rage, does he return to that very castle he promised he’d get out of, storming up to his room to destroy each and every last bit of furniture that stands. He throws books off their shelves, he breaks glass- blood coats paper, seeping and soaking. Blood drips onto the counters. There is glass entrapped in his palm. 

 

He screams at the top of his lungs- so long his voice goes hoarse and raspy, fueled by unbridled rage. Alone, could he no longer keep his act together, destroying even more until nothing could be pieced together, just like Him. 

 

No stone will go unturned, no corner will be left unchecked. 

 

Not until he finds her. 

 

 

 

---

 

He recalls that night, sitting atop a roof in Vikela, staring at the stars; reminiscing, remembering. They pointed at individual sparkles in a sea of black, comparing it to their mothers. That day they had reconnected, and Sariel was overjoyed, to finally have someone he deems a sibling inside his very first home. 

 

“The stars look twice as pretty.” Utters Him, “Are you up there?”

 

No, she isn’t. He knows this, but he wants to believe. He wants to have that hope he promised her.

 

His silence is broken off by a singular thought, something to pry his mind off the inevitable.

 

His endless wandering leads him to the foot of Naya’s house in Petra, and he jostles the door open, jingling keys to alert his presence; animals seem overjoyed. His feet creek with every given step, slow and painful. He weaves around, meagerly refilling food and water bowls. A Borzoi seems rather delighted to see him, padded paws tapping on the floor. A feasel scurries down the stairs, hissing at him. 

 

How is he to tell an animal about Naya, he thinks, how many days until they finally give up hope of her ever returning. 

 

Something tugs at the back of his mind, begging him to step upstairs into her room. He uncovers a baby crying in his crib. Sariel gently scoops the baby into his arms, tending to his very needs. After mere minutes of calming Fynn down, he settles himself at her desk, fingertips grazing over books, beginning to indulge in whatever studies Naya committed herself to.

 

The fire is lit.

 

[NovumChase 235]

Aithwin Al-Jabir Aldor sat hunched at the end of an otherwise vacant bed, staring at the giggling, toddling boy on the wooden floor before him. He lived in a house occupied, but empty. Weeks before, his growing love for the child could have overbrimmed; now, eyes blankly upon little Fynn, it was as if someone robbed all notions of love from his chest. Aithwin had fast become an unsouled man: a man whose lifeless gaze was not fit for fatherhood.

 

And yet, there was something—deep within him, beyond his conscious perception—that continued to stir. Even after this greatest robbery, this theft of his vitality, something fought still for air. Tired, sunken eyes showed forth a flicker, and a small smile flashed across his features as the boy excitedly toyed with a very familiar stuffed elephant—but the smile vanished as quickly as it came, and it would soon again be buried, not to be seen for some time again.

 

That was now the way of things. An oppressive, hateful mountain of grief, rage and denial had fallen crushingly upon any capacity within Aithwin for joy. Clawing out of it was a distant dream. Even Naya's sincerest words could not break his indignance, and each time his eyes set themselves upon a star, he quietly swore to himself that he would see her again. He would. There could be no doubt. No matter how many dimensions he had to crawl through, emaciated and burning, he would find her.

 

For now, though, there were matters at hand. Little Fynlo dy Eayst, as he had begun to call the boy—that is, Fynlo of the moon, and Fynn in brief—could not grow up without knowing of his Ummi. Aithwin would live for that fact, and that fact alone if need be. Perhaps it was this which sparked him to smile in spite of the bleakness. In truth, Aithwin may never know; any manner of happiness now felt unnatural, to be sure. But something warred, pushed, and struggled ever upward, urging him to follow Naya's advice and to live in spite of her death. Maybe it was some splinter of Naya herself. In time, he would be wise to cleave forever to it.