Wynather

[Wynather 26]

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𝕀𝕥 𝕘𝕖𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕒 𝕡𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕥, 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕪𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖... 𝕄𝕒𝕪𝕓𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕧𝕖 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕠 𝕒𝕟𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕝. 𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕗 𝕚𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙... 𝕀𝕗 𝕚𝕥 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕤 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕓𝕖𝕪𝕠𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕘𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟.

 

𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕙𝕦𝕣𝕥, 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕟 𝕚𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕤𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕝𝕪 𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕤 𝕚𝕟𝕗𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕; 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕦𝕟𝕤𝕡𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤 𝕓𝕦𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕜𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕥 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕥𝕠 𝕡𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙 𝕚𝕥 𝕦𝕡 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗... 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕤𝕠 𝕝𝕦𝕔𝕜𝕪 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕣𝕪.

 

𝕎𝕪𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕖𝕝𝕥 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖; 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕕 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕧𝕦𝕝𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕜, 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕣...

 

𝔻𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕜𝕤, 𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕤... ℍ𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕦𝕤𝕓𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕣, 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕚𝕞 𝕥𝕠 𝕒𝕔𝕥 𝕠𝕟 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕠𝕨𝕟... 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕨 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕦𝕣𝕥.

 

𝔸 𝕤𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕧𝕠𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞 𝕦𝕡 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕒 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕡𝕚𝕥 - 𝕠𝕗 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤 𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕘𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕟, 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕞𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕤, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕𝕟'𝕥 𝕤𝕒𝕧𝕖, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕𝕟'𝕥 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕔𝕥.

 

ℍ𝕖𝕣 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝, 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕙 𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕠 𝕜𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕓𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕙... 𝔸𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕𝕟'𝕥 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕔𝕥, 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕤𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕣𝕞𝕤, 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕗𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕤𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠𝕠 𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥.

 

𝕎𝕪𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕕𝕘𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕒 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕗, 𝕒 𝕔𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕔𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕗𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕚𝕣. 𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕖𝕝𝕥 𝕒 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕠𝕗 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕠 𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕖𝕩𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕕. 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕥 𝕝𝕠𝕕𝕘𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕥, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕞𝕖... 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕒𝕥 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕝𝕒𝕡 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕒 𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕗𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖.

 

𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕣... 𝕋𝕠 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕚𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕒 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕖... 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕠 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕚𝕕. ℍ𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕠𝕠𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕦𝕗𝕗𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕤 𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕝 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟 - 𝕒 𝕞𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 - 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖. 𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕡 𝕒𝕥 𝕒 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕤𝕜𝕪, 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕥, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕖𝕪𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕤𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕝𝕪 𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕥 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖; 𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕝 𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕟.

 

𝕊𝕨𝕚𝕤𝕙...

 

𝕊𝕨𝕚𝕤𝕙...

 

𝕊𝕨𝕚𝕤𝕙...

 

𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕕 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕖𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕤, 𝕒 𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕊𝕧𝕒𝕟𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕕, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒 𝕤𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕤𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕥 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕡𝕤... ℍ𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕜𝕪. 𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕒𝕤 𝕞𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕒𝕤 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕚𝕕.

 

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕝𝕘𝕒𝕒𝕣𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕙𝕠𝕨𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕣𝕠𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕗, 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕙 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕓𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕤 𝕗𝕦𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕒𝕤 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕨 𝕟𝕦𝕞𝕓. 𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕚𝕕𝕟'𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕖𝕟𝕕 - 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕒 𝕤𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕒, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕞𝕓 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕦𝕡 𝕥𝕠 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕜𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕙.

 

𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕝𝕕.

 

𝔽𝕣𝕠𝕫𝕖𝕟 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕗 ℕ𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕤𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕗𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖, 𝕎𝕪𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕒𝕪 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕓𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕒 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕤.

 

 

Edited March 24, 2025 by Wynather

[ReverseNebula 373]

Once the woman's gaze had finally cleared, when the cold died out as the last thing she felt, when her consciousness regained her amidst the after-life, was Okar'sil the first to greet her, whether it have been his own pitiful way of reconciliation, or an attempt to lessen the grief she likely felt upon realization of what she had done.

His smile was as vibrant as the day he had last departed Norland, a subtle flicker to that spectral, golden-hued form that he had last inhabited amidst the mortal coil.
"You're one of the last I expected to arrive... but to be here so soon, perhaps things did not end so well for you..."

His words, sung forth, in such a gently, harmonizing melody - much akin to how relaxing his hue seemed. . .

"Find your respite, llir, rest now... I am sure you need it, and you are as deserving as the last."

His voice finally died out, the 'Kers arms outstretched, an embrace offered, but not enforced. . .

For the Ker's eternal wander was a curse upon himself, perhaps this is why he refused the respite of gods and man alike. Perhaps he wanted to be one of the few faces to welcome those who perished. . . but they would never know, until they all reconciled once more amidst this plane of death...

 

[Calise11 841]

Spoiler

 

𝑺𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒍 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒅𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅, 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒅 𝒔𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓. 𝑾𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓’𝒔 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒍𝒂𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒑, 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒐, 𝒂 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒑 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒑 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒔 𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒔 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒈𝒂𝒑𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔. 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒍’𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝒘𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏. 𝑨 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔, 𝒘𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕. 𝑮𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒇.

𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒑 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕; 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒅𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒕, 𝒔𝒐𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚, 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒑... 𝑺𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒍’𝒔 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒆. "𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒖𝒑, 𝑾𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓. . .," 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒅 𝒂𝒊𝒓. 𝑨 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒃 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒖𝒑 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒕. "𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆, 𝑰 𝒃𝒆𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑶𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 . . . ." 𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝒗𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔. 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒏, 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆... 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏... 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒇𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑵𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝒏𝒐 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆. 𝑵𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏. 𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕... 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈...

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒚, 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒖𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐. 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒆? 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏—𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒏. 𝑨 𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒔𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏. 𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒆’𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒔𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒆, 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒎 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓. 𝑰𝒇 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝑺𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒐𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒚𝒓𝒆’𝒔 𝒌𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒏. 𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓. 𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝑾𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓. 𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒚𝒓𝒆. 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐’𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔? 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒍, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒚... 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔? 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑾𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒅. 𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓.

𝑨𝒔𝒉 𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝑺𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒍’𝒔 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒓, 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕 𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒍𝒍-𝑭𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓. "𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝑾𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓," 𝑺𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒍 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕, 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒗𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒓-𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆. "𝑰 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆." 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔, 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒏𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒅, 𝒗𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓. 𝑶𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒙𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐. 𝑨 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉. 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒘𝒐. 𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆.

 

[Flynnigan 267]

Flynnigan Bluefern hummed, descending the steps as he looked around for his journal and map; looking around before he spotted it tucked away behind the bench. “Ah, here we are,” Flynn smiled, reaching in and grabbing it to put it away in his jacket.

 

Flynn's new dog sniffed around feverishly, nose glued to the dirt. Flynn paid little attention, giving a whistle as he went to head back up the stairs. Still, the dog sniffed, before looking over the cliffside. Flynn paused, looking back. “Dax!” Flynn called. “C'mere boy!” The dog dug it's paws into the dirt, starting to bark loudly. Flynn frowned. “Dax! What's going on, bud?” he asked, descending back down the steps. Flynn wandered over to his barking dog. Dax whined anxiously, padding on his feet as he looked around, glancing at Flynn before pointing his nose down towards the water.

 

Flynn frowned, furrowing his eyebrow. “C'mon, Daxie. What's down there?” he asked, now sounding worried. “Come on, come on, what's down there?” Flynn ruffled the dog's thick coat of fur, before casting a glance downwards to see... a person on the rocks off the cliff. Flynn's eyes widened and he shot to his feet. “Oh, shit---” Flynn gasped. “HEY!! HEY, YOU!!” he shouted to the unmoving body. Flynn pulled off his overcoat and bag. “I'M COMING!!” Flynn stumbled back, heart racing before taking a running start to swan dive off the cliffside towards the body.

 

The man swam over to the rocks, shuddering from the cold. He managed to grab the body as he hovered over it. “Hey, hey!” he called. “Hey, are you--”

 

Flynn stopped, eyes widening. No. No no no no. No no no no no no no this wasn't happening. This wasn't real. “W...” Flynn's hands shook. His eyes searched the sight. He couldn't breath. “Wynnie? Wynnie, love--” he croaked. “Wynnie, WYNNIE!!” Flynn pushed the hair from her face, now acutley aware of the blood pooled on the rocks from her skull. “WYNNIE!! WYNATHER!!!” His voice cracked as he screamed her name.

 

This couldn't be happening. No, not like this. Not now. He couldn't lose her, he couldn't lose the person he loved most in the world... Flynn's throat tightened and burned with an ugly sensation. A horrifying grief he'd never felt before. The cold feeling vanished as his hands hesitated to touch her. They slowly lowered to cup her face as he choked on tears. He couldn't form words as he stared into her lifeless expression. His arms curled around her and he held her like a baby, shaking with wide eyes as he felt his entire life falling to pieces. He hugged her tighter, feeling the blood drip through his hands as he supported the back of her head, shaking and sobbing as he tucked her into his chest. The pain seared. It ripped. It... it was the worst pain he'd ever felt. He squeezed her tightly. He felt no warmth. His breathing shook in tandem with his body...

 

Flynn screamed. He screamed and screamed. He could feel his throat tear and rip but it was nothing compared to the ache in his heart. His world--his everything. The type of loss that had driven his own father to lose himself. To become a monster. His screams continued to pierce the air, his body shaking as it tried desperatley to remind him to breathe. As the screams finally died down, he was reduced to sobs. Desperate, hopeless sobs. He buried his face in her neck, wishing to the All-Father for him to wake up. For this to be another nightmare--just like all the rest. But the freezing, wet, bloodied clothes clinging to his skin reminded him that this was real. That he had lost his love. His light. His life. Wynather Bluefern; was dead.

Edited March 25, 2025 by Flynnigan