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Summary
"I can nearly taste the ancient agony in your tone, Emet-Selch." He feigned innocence as he turned to her, her eyes glowing in the near darkness. The light she'd already born from previous lightwardens did indeed make her out a beacon liken to the sun against the sky. He shook off the comparison, agony ripping through him.
"Our history is yet as tragic as existence itself." He mused quietly. She remained there, silently by his side, for a few moments, and despite himself, he was reminded of the fateful days of past, when her silence had begotten naught but sorrow for him. Suddenly, he was angry. How dare she exist in this capacity, a crude reminder of that which he had so laboriously suffered to attempt to forget? Standing there, her lavender braid twisting idly in the wind, her blue eyes staring off into the distance, he felt his anger roil against her, this fractured soul of his once beloved.
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A story following the Warrior of Light and Emet-Selch as they delve to a tragic end beyond all reckoning.