-Aftermath of the Raid of Arandor-
“What of the Luminary Warden?”
“His injuries were severe, even he himself would have been pressed to heal such…His body is stable, but it's like his mind is gone, he sleeps, like as if he had…Entered a cycle, but..”
“Keep an eye on him, if there is chance he will return we need to be ready for such,”
“What if he does not?”
“Then we will let him sleep, as his life was a long one..”
Cin’aed gasped awake, his entire body drenched in sweat, his head pounding, the last thing he could remember was the old Legionaire swinging an axe in his direction…
The Luminary Warden pressed himself to stand, this room he was in was circular, a bed, a desk, and a window but its outside was dark, not just normal darkness, something stirred within it, something that wanted the elf, but this glowing room seemed to keep it at bay.
The room itself was well enough to his liking, his memory seemed to be in a fog, how did he end up here? Where was here? The axe?
Minutes turned to hours, hours to days, days to weeks, weeks to months, months to years it felt like, time did not seem to work in this place, Cin’aed would wake, ponder how he was here, walk the room what felt like several million times and he would become weak and sleep, there was no food, water, he didn't feel the need for them either.
On one of these “days” he awoke to see an elf he had always kept in his heart sitting at the edge of his bed, her hand resting on his leg, near his knee, “I am dead then, this is what the afterlife is…”
Her soft smile brightened the room like pure moonlight, her being shone, “You are not dead my love, just...Hurt, very badly, it will take time, this room will keep your mind, but…if you wish to join me in the beyond there is that too..”
Cin’aed thought for a long moment, he had lived long enough, there were others to keep health, to keep the elven people safe and alive- then the image of the darkened axe caught his mind once more, the rampage of a mad man, torn into Arandor.
“I cannot, at least not yet, Arandor still calls to me, its Luminary Warden, and I have so much unfinished, so much I must atone for..”
Her smile faltered just a moment, but that reassuring hand on his leg squeezed just enough, his mind again swirled, and again he slept.
The Veil of Caladria
Re: The Veil of Caladria
“He is not getting any better…”
“Time will tell..”
“No he is getting worse, he is cold to the touch, like a corpse…His essence is fading..What do we do?”
“There is little we can do..”
Day after day, the same room, the same everything. Cin’aed thought his mind was one of the strongest of elven society, such hubris, the Warden had lost track of time, there was no more time in this place, just endless being.
Once he did wake, the room was darker than usual, a darkness that seemed to creep and lull his senses, perhaps this was death, finally it had come for him, a voice broke the thought - “The mighty Cin’aed Sirune on his death bed, it's a shame, I had always hoped to be the one to take your soul and use it for my work.”
The man, no creature that sat across from him wore darkened purple robes, his skin pale and sickly, his eyes a glowing yellowish red, Mortimer, chosen of the demon Azamul sat not but ten feet from the dying elf with a grin plastered on his face.
“Be gone vision of mine, i know you are not real, you wouldn't do me the pleasure of words” Cin’aed spat as he pulled himself up in the ragged sweat drenched bed, pulling the one blanket tightly around him, Mortimer shifted in an instant and was standing over him the shadow he cast grew the cold reaching into Cin’aed, gripping at his bones.
“I can tell you one thing my little Luminary Warden, I am very much real, and in this place I can do as I please to you,” And with that Mortimer pressed a long finger nail to Cin’aeds forehead and began to press harshly, Cin’aed could do nothing but scream as the nail dug into his skin, his skull, his brain and again everything swirled and darkness took him.
“Time will tell..”
“No he is getting worse, he is cold to the touch, like a corpse…His essence is fading..What do we do?”
“There is little we can do..”
Day after day, the same room, the same everything. Cin’aed thought his mind was one of the strongest of elven society, such hubris, the Warden had lost track of time, there was no more time in this place, just endless being.
Once he did wake, the room was darker than usual, a darkness that seemed to creep and lull his senses, perhaps this was death, finally it had come for him, a voice broke the thought - “The mighty Cin’aed Sirune on his death bed, it's a shame, I had always hoped to be the one to take your soul and use it for my work.”
The man, no creature that sat across from him wore darkened purple robes, his skin pale and sickly, his eyes a glowing yellowish red, Mortimer, chosen of the demon Azamul sat not but ten feet from the dying elf with a grin plastered on his face.
“Be gone vision of mine, i know you are not real, you wouldn't do me the pleasure of words” Cin’aed spat as he pulled himself up in the ragged sweat drenched bed, pulling the one blanket tightly around him, Mortimer shifted in an instant and was standing over him the shadow he cast grew the cold reaching into Cin’aed, gripping at his bones.
“I can tell you one thing my little Luminary Warden, I am very much real, and in this place I can do as I please to you,” And with that Mortimer pressed a long finger nail to Cin’aeds forehead and began to press harshly, Cin’aed could do nothing but scream as the nail dug into his skin, his skull, his brain and again everything swirled and darkness took him.
Re: The Veil of Caladria
Day after day the scene repeated. When they’d stabilized the Luminary Warden a week ago, Faelith had been hopeful, but his condition had been steadily deteriorating ever since. When she wasn’t here casting spells and using her druidic healing aura, she was gathering more herbs and brewing all manner of potions to try and improve his condition.
-He’s fading- She heard the words muttered as she entered the quiet room, relieving the other two Elves and taking her shift Cin’ead’s side. Approaching his bedside, she couldn’t argue with their assessment…
The druid set down a bowl of fresh snow on the side table and placed a hand to his cheek. Heat radiated from his skin as Cin’ead muttered something barely coherent in his unconscious state…
“Be… mmm… not… not real… you wouldn’t… mm… mm…”
Preparing a cool cloth, she laid it gently over his forehead.
”Whoever you are fighting in there… I hope you kick their ass. We are not giving up on you, so don’t you go giving up either.“
Faelith started pulling bottles from her bag and setting them out in a row on the table. Two short golden bottles sparkled beside a much taller flask of blue. The Flasks of Life had taken her a long time to brew, but she prayed to Caladria and Aldarwen that it would be worth it. Supporting him with a carefully placed arm, she poured the first elixir into his mouth. The second golden flask was emptied onto some blood moss and applied to his wounds.
After replacing his bandages and refreshing the compress on his forehead again, she sat by his bed and picked up the final blue flask, downing it herself. The Flask of Mana coursed through her Lyrandel as her natural healing aura activated, filling the small space with radiant energy.
”Alright friend, how about a story?“
For the rest of the afternoon and long into the night, she regaled her friend with all the tales of Aldarwen and her animal friends that she remembered from her childhood. All the while, doing what she could to try and keep him comfortable and trying not let the worry knotting the pit of her stomach win out over hope.