ByMidnightsLight
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Jenevelle works for her parents’ little bakery and florist shop. Everything is just how she likes it; every day is the same.
Isha just needs to buy some flowers for her parents’ funeral. Her life is suddenly different, but every day is still the same.Her friend Karly recommended a small flower shop just down the road. After the funeral planning, endless messages from family, and the silence of a suddenly empty house, it shouldn’t have been that hard. It was just another item on the long list of things Isha had to survive.
For Jen, it was just another day.
Neither of them knew how that damp Monday afternoon would begin to change everything.
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The camp was silent.
No one spoke. Nothing moved. Not even the birds called from the trees.Shadowheart stood half-donned in her armour, dragged from her tent by shouts of alarm. Her mace hung loose in her grip. She stood at the edge—at the edge of a puddle of blood so thick it still hadn’t dried in the morning sun. It crept across the sand in sluggish veins, seeping into the lake until the water ran red.
She numbly watched a lute string drift there, its pale surface dulled and sticky with gore. The bard’s body lay crumpled beside Isha’s discarded hunting knife—the one thing she had carried from before the Nautiloid—its blade slick with blood. Her eyes were still wide in the scream that marked her end.
Her stomach had been torn open, stabbed until it was nothing but blood, bone, and pulp.Shadowheart supposed it had been inevitable. Isha had tried to warn them. All of them. Time and time again.
And only now, when it was far, far too late, did Shadowheart understand.
They hadn’t failed to hear her.
They had simply never listened.Series
- Part 3 of Moonlight Burning the Flower
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She knew about you before, could hear you whisper dark little things in her ear, but she had ultimately dismissed you, pushed you as far away from her conscious mind as possible. She did not want to serve. But her flesh was your flesh, and her blood was your blood. It did not matter if she did not want to. Her body would serve you whether her mind wished to or not.
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- Part 4 of Moonlight Burning the Flower
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Shadowheart bit back a gasp, and stared at the back of Isha’s head, who was shamelessly walking away. It wasn’t the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last that Isha would somehow make her clash internally between swooning over her lover, and ripping her clothes off.
But then again. They had company.
Shadowheart was delighted to see Jaheira. She truly was. But Isha had a promise to keep, and this would only get in the way.
Series
- Part 2 of Moonlight Burning the Flower
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The damage Isha had done to the Netherbrain was immense, and without it being so crippled, no one would have survived that day. But the effort had crippled Isha in turn.
Gale had examined her after the dust of the battle had settled, and confirmed Shadowheart’s fears. No mind that wasn’t at least partially Illithid was supposed to connect to the hivemind, and it was only because Isha was literally born from a god that she wasn’t killed outright from the feedback effect. But something had buckled in Isha’s mind when she fought the Netherbrain, and no amount of time or magic could heal it.
Somedays it would manifest as a stutter, and Isha would struggle to finish a sentence, or she wouldn't even be able to say a word, even as her mouth moved to speak them. Other times it arrived as it had now, in sudden, often violent seizures.
On good days, it would just remain in her hands. On bad days…
Well… they were called bad days for a reason.
Series
- Part 1 of Moonlight Burning the Flower
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“Selûne works in mysterious, often poetic ways,” Isobel shrugged, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she destined one daughter to save the other.”
Shadowheart bit her lip to contain her laughter. “So you’re telling me that your goddess sent Isha to bring me back to her fold?” She shook her head, this was too much. Everything was too much. “She isn’t even a Selûnite! Are you even listening to yourself?”
A deep chuckle rumbled throughout the room.
“Oh you sweet thing.” Dame Aylin smiled, Shadowheart had the sinking feeling that in this verbal game of cat and mouse, she was most certainly the mouse. “I fear it may be you who is not listening to my darling Isobel’s words…” Her stare was so gentle, like she was giving Shadowheart her condolences. “ How can you be so certain that my mother did not bring you together so that you would be able to save her?”
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