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One of Alinua’s earliest memories is falling.
It’s strange. Disorientating. Blurred.
She more often than not wonders how it felt at the time. How terrifying it must have been. She knew she came from the clouds… It's a long way between the clouds and the ground.
Alinua is mostly sure she is meant to be dead. She is meant to be dead. And her fall from peace, from sanctuary, should have been what killed her.
No, it wasn’t a fall. She was thrown.
It's practically undeniable. People like her, cloud elves, even, don’t just end up on land by accident, especially as somehow-still-living children.
And with that knowledge comes anger, and a rage she tries to push down because- because somehow, it still hurts.
Left behind, unwanted. How a parent, a family or anyone for that matter, could feel that way to a child; could do that to a child, Alinua doesn’t understand. She hates them for it.
Perhaps it were unreasonable - to despise strangers for something that they may, or may not have even done. Stupid. She doubts they’d even recognise her. Or perhaps they would; they’d surely be shocked, a child they thought had died - that they had killed - alive and well after many years, oblivious to their relation to one another. That would be ironic, funny, even.
But Alinua knows not to bother herself with a fantasy by now. Still, she hopes they regret it.
It’s not to say that she never had a true childhood - she did have one. Alinua remembers it in snippets, as she expects anyone would. She remembers warm, soft hands cradling her and holding her close. She remembers evenings spent kneading bread for the morning and baking sweet treats for lunch. She remembers the quiet and gentle notes of songs, serenading her to sleep.
A part of Alinua wishes that was all there was to it; that nothing was hidden between the memories of warmth and familiarity. But life can never be that easy, can it?. Not for someone like her.
The first time she had heard the words chimeric plague was in school. Alinua hadn’t paid much mind to the worried glances cast upon her by her teacher at the time.
She hadn't known then.
The second time she heard those words had been at night. She was supposed to be asleep and that is what she hopes her mother can still believe.
Alinua can still hear the voices: her mother and another man - one of the more powerful figure in the small village she had grown up in.
“There was clearly a reason you found that child abandoned.”
His voice was a deep and harsh hiss and her mother’s tight and scared, “Yes, I know she-”
“Everyone knows! She carries the chimeric plague. The older she gets— Do you realise the risks?”
“Of course I do! But Alinua is just a child. It’d be too cruel.”
“Cruel?” the word was punctuated with a harsh, mocking scoff, “That child could kill us all.”
She remembers pushing her ear further against the closed door, curious and afraid.
“I know.” Her mother- she wouldn’t- “I understand.” The memory gets vague after that, blurred. But Alinua remembers the feelings; her hand pressed against her mouth to muffle the gasp she let out, the tears running down her cheeks in the moments that followed and fear. Not just fear, no, terror. The thought that she could kill- could murder everyone she held dear - her entire village. By the Gods, the thought was terrifying.
The worst part is, looking back, she can say for certain that if it weren't for that moment- if it weren't for that single moment - she would still have a family. A life filled with happiness and love. And with hope, it could have lasted her a lifetime.
It's painful to think about.
And so, it was that night that she gathered her things, and that night when she emptied and repacked her little bag with leftover slices of bread and nuts. And then… she left.
The thought is always easier than the action. It was miles between her village and then next town, a couple of days of riding or even more than that of walking. But she did it. And when she got there, something - the naïve beliefs of an upset, lost child, perhaps - disappeared. It wouldn't be as simple as she thought it was - no. The chimeric plague and the potential for death wasn't just some quirk of her village, it was universal. Alinua didn't know why she had thought that, why she had left with the hope of finding a new family. Stupid. Idiotic.
And yet still, part of her held onto that hope, gripping and clawing desperately as if she were a beast at her last meal. It kept her alive. It kept her moving towards some kind of a future.
Alinua was eventually able to reach the next town and settle in the shade of a nearby tree whose roots had pulled up from the ground to better disguise her hiding place.
The memory had always been vivid, burned into her mind forever; how the roots had thrummed with energy and magic; how they had reached towards her like grasping, gnarled hands to curve elegantly and almost protectively around her…
Indescribable.
Alinua hadn't initially meant to do it - the fear of magic overuse had always been enough for her to at the very least try and suppress it. Her mother had always said she was a natural healer and gardener; had always praised Alinua on her work with life magic. Now she can only wonder how utterly terrified she surely must have been, knowing that, at any moment, her daughter could loose the control they had both worked so hard to achieve and kill them both where they stood. She couldn't help but find the woman brave for it.
Had the tree, moving and curling to protect her, been the first sign? A warning of sorts? A reminder to be constantly diligent.? A reminder to stay in control?
Either way, she took it as such. A reminder and a promise to herself to hold her power close. To keep the control she had worked hard to build.
From that moment on, Alinua had found herself becoming more and more aware of the way nature bent to her will - whether she liked it or not. Perhaps if she were… normal. Yes. Perhaps if she were a normal life mage, who had worked hard for her power and had struggled and succeeded through years upon years of training her power she would have been fascinated.
Alinua couldn't even imagine the way it would feel to watch life bend and reach around to protect without the looming fear of chimeras hung over her head. Gods. If only.
For years, it carried on in much the same way. She never settled for long - she figured that the longer she stayed in one place, the more likely they would— nevermind. But either way, the life around her seemed to be reaching for her, a constant force of protection. Magical. It was magical.
Part of Alinua almost felt glad that it did that. It could be a trade, of sorts: I accidentally make your crops grow, and in return, you let me stay in your town without you knowing. The idea helped but Alinua still knew deep down that if her control broke— if that fragile glass she had worked hard to maintain even so much as cracked— that would be it. There was no reasonable exchange for their death and hers. Not one.
Even by her logic, they all have good reason to send her running with pitchforks and flame. The chimeric plague is… dangerous. Deadly.
Isolating.
Gods. How she hates it.
A part of her wishes she were like any other carrier. Fated to die before they ever got a chance at living. Were they content with that? Or would they have yearned to be as lucky, Alinua supposed, as she were? Perhaps.
She couldn't imagine a world like that. So she made her own.
She had been expecting the usual mundane routine as she had neared Vash, too hesitant to enter - Alinua had heard rumours of the resident God's overprotective presence and didn't dare tempt fate at the time. Looking back, a part of her is glad. Thankful, even.
She had carried on into the woods with the intention of sleep and rest before venturing further towards the heart of the city. Alinua had taken the time to locate a clearing on the map she had borrowed from a large-ish town some few years ago; she had learnt from there that anything left unattended was likely not wanted. It was easier to think that way.
It had taken some time to find a good spot. The overgrowth had been dense and thick in places and the canopy of leaves offered a lot of coverage. Despite the inconvenience, Alinua found it nice. Perhaps in some wildly different scenario, in another life perhaps, she would have stayed. Gods. Imagine that. She could almost taste the vegetables she would have grown and touch the pretty little flowers she would have let bloom across the clearing.
But alas… this was not another life. This was hers, now. And so, she wandered - half lost in thought, half searching until she found it.
It was mostly hollow, and had seemed to grow on endlessly into the sky while its large, twisted roots kept it firmly planted in the ground. Perfect.
It took some fair amount of time, yes, to pry some kind of an opening - a supposed front door, even - out of the bark but by nightfall, she had done it. It wasn't comfortable by any means. She had always traveled light, seeing no need for some kind of heavily packed bag that would ultimately only serve to slow her down, usually sleeping on just her cloak. So no, not comfortable by any means, but functional.
That night, she had dreamt of a meadow: a blossoming field of flowers that sprawled on and on for endless miles. A breeze had blown through, dancing and whispering on the wind as it fluttered gracefully through each flower petal. She could feel it on her face. Like soft brushes of leaves as they fell. And then she awoke, still smelling the flowers and listening to them grow.
It had taken some time to make her way into the city. Even longer to do so in a way that didn't connote "Life mage who may or may not be carrying the could-accidentally-kill-you-all rune on her shoulder." And while she wasn't entirely sure of the impression she had given off, it surely wasn't that bad.
It took some time to find what she needed - it was surprisingly hard to find an inexpensive cooking pot that she wouldn't mind simply abandoning in a few sindahlan's time. Perhaps less than that. The City of Vash seemed a lot more… enamored with their God and unlikely to make any sort of offering more than small pieces of food to a "mysterious spirit" such as herself. The surrounding forests would have to provide.
And provide they did.
It was to be some time before she returned to Vash for more supplies but it had been by no means difficult to carry on without. It was nice. At times, she had imagined a garden filled with fresh produce she had grown to eat. The image always came with a sudden pang of regret and longing. By the Gods she hated it. Perhaps there was a life where she could have settled. Found a family and someone to love. One where she was not outcast. One where she was free to live her life. Oh, it would be beautiful.
Alinua dreamt of the meadow again. Felt each root of each flower grasping desperately for water. The wind still blew in its peace. But.. she couldn't explain it. To say unsettled was the wrong word. It was just-
That was when she woke up.
Alinua thinks that was the moment it began. A great rumbling that sprung suddenly into existence without warning. Like an earthquake - but worse somehow. The ground didn't shake - no, it pulled. It pulled like the land was stretching out to reach a certain point with some uncontrollable, aching urge. It just- moved.
And perhaps it's a stupid idea to head towards whatever strange force is dragging the land into it. But sometimes, Alinua's stupid ideas were her best ones - maybe this is one. And maybe… maybe she can help? Oh, by the Gods. Idiotic. Truly. And yet she runs, a part of her soul reaching and pulling forwards desperately; wanting and yearning for something. It feels… primal. A complex tapestry of pure feeling, each strand working to pull and push her onward. Gods. What if they had died?
Slowly, as she continues, feet thrumming desperately and rhythmically on the ground, she begins to see it.
A hill. One that hadn't been there previously. It stands where a city once had, made of crumbling stone and dirt.
Dead. They could only be dead. There was not way to escape that— That thing. It felt— Unnatural, wrong. She hated it. By the Gods she hated it. It's broken and unfair. Forced. Just evil.
Alinua didn't want to look. She couldn't tear her eyes away— She couldn't. She wanted to scream. And then—
There's a noise.
She's not quite sure what it is that posesses her to run towards it. Some twisted version of hope, perhaps? One that seemed to override every logical and safe thought she had ever trained herself on. Yes. That must be it. And it must be that same hope that brings her to him; that bings her to Vash. Of course she can recognise him from the brief glimpses in her short trips into his city, though she never thought she would see him like this. Stabbed.
She freezes for barely a second and then she's moving. There's not real thought to the motion. It feels instinctual. Its what she has to do. He needs help.
A part of her screams wildly about how idiotic and dangerous it would be to so much as think about healing him. But… he's a God? Surely, he'd be okay? Surely any damage she could ever possibly do would be negligible, reversible. Surely, he'd be okay.
And so she lets go.
As she approaches the trickle becomes a stream and plants flower and bloom beneath her feet. She pulls from their energy as she gets closer. She lets it flow through her and, as she touches Vash, into the wound. Slowly, it begins to knit itself back together. New flesh reforming with each second and then something snaps. It floods. Alinua can see it. She can feel it. Flowing, pulsing, forcing its way through. Life. Pure and unfiltered Life.
It rips at her soul, desperately clawing itself out from where it lay. Like a beast. Rabid, unforgiving. Its a rush. Uncontrollable. Wild. And then—
It stops. Almost as suddenly as it started with an overwhelming wave of dizziness that has her swaying and blinking away black spots that dance in front of her eyes. As her vision clears, not completely, but enough to see him, to see Vash, the thought hits. She's killed him. She killed him. No, not just him. Both of them. But surely, surely, he'd be okay, right? He's a God.
Alinua can't pretend to know how divine souls worked, but surely… He is a God. Whatever mistake she had made he can fix it. Right? Because he's a God. Yes.
He isn't dead. And neither is she. He's a God. He'll be fine. They'll both be fine. She'll be fine.