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He found the exit. Or so he thought. He could see the lighthouse just past the veil. The veil that separated him from his freedom. The regret prison was… an epithany. He would accept the past, let it be a guide, not a boulder weighting him down. The pain still there, like a wound that has been cleaned and was now allowed to heal.
He saw clear, after all this time, for the first time in his life.
Stand tall, kid. He looked back, Varic was still standing there, smiling. he quietly turned around and walked away, a single wave as goodbye. He knew what he had to do.
A tear slid down his cheek and he felt his eyes fill with tears, a blend of anger at being hurt and relief at finally seeing the truth. He took a shaky breath, tears streaming freely now. At first a single sob, as he tried to hide it. His shoulders started to shake; the sobs became more frequent as he allowed himself to cry freely. Not hiding his emotions, his pain, his soul. There was no one here to judge him for falling.
How much time passed? He didn’t know, or care. He wiped his tears and looked past the veil, into the fade. The lighthouse still there, blurry figures running around.
Truth-burned… He placed his left hand on the veil. Slightly pushing, but it wouldn’t move. Of course, the veil wasn’t so simply traversed. He tried with both hands, but nothing would budge. So close, yet so far… but not for much longer.
He was a mage, sensed the flow and mana within him. But now, there was more. Magic that was slumbering within him, always there, waiting for him to accept his own pain and vulnerability. A weakness that will turn into strength. A long-forgotten truth. Magic far greater than an ordinary person was supposed to possess.
He slammed his fist against the veil, magic flying everywhere, a fire burning in his eyes. Just what is fuelling this? A little single crack appeared in the veil.
He saw the blurry figures hurrying over to him. On the other side appeared three figures at first, purple, earthen, crackling.
Did the corner of his mouth just rise slightly?
He used both hands to hammer against the veil; ancient magic was guided to crack the veil more. While the cracks distorted the sigh to the other side, he saw two more figures arriving, smoke, light blue.
Once more he let his magic tear at the veil, the cracks growing bigger, once more he saw two more figures arriving, wooden, small. He could make out distorted voices. This way…! Rook!
He grinned. His magic once more amplified by this foreign feeling. …Trust…
He shatters the veil and hands reached though to grasp him. His own hand closing to hold onto the other one’s arm. He steps through the veil, finally free.
Clear purple eyes meet concerned brown ones.
A voiceless whisper...
I’m back