He was gone. In an instant the dragon who had raised her, taught her, loved her, been there for her... he was reduced to nothing more than a pile of ash on the ground. Her other half, the blade to watch her back, her advisor, guard, and friend. Everything she had held dear in this world had been stripped from her in an instant, and when she looked at the dragon who had done it, she felt rage unlike anything she had experienced in her life. She forgot her injuries - the agony she felt only fuelled her as she lifted his still red-hot sword and screamed, a shriek of misery and fury that was animalistic and rife with pain. The terror in the mage's eyes as she fell upon him was only fuel to her desire to utterly destroy him, and when she had finished and what was left of him was certain to never move again she fell to the ground, wails that could break even the coldest of hearts piercing the silence of that bitter, cold day.
It was late into the next day when she found the strength to move again, her aching limbs screaming in protest as she rose from where she had lay in frozen vigil beside the ashes of Malachi's remains. She robotically collected them, but halfway through her resolve broke once again and she released her hands, letting what she had scatter through the air. Her voice when she finally spoke was quiet, betraying the agony she felt through the way it broke on every word as she whispered a fragment of a funeral prayer he had once taught her; "May the wind take you, my friend."
What was left of his ashes she collected, though she wasn't even sure why. She placed the pinch of what was left within a locket he had given her when she was still a hatchling, putting it around her neck for the first time in years. "I thought... we would always be together..." her voice broke once again, and she couldn't stop the tears from flowing, blurring her vision no matter how much she tried to wipe them away. "At least you'll always be close to my heart this way, but things can never..." she trailed off again, gazing into the distance past the veil of tears. "Why?" She whispered. "Why you, Malachi? How can I ever do this without you?"
She returned to the clan, barely speaking a word to anyone. News travelled quickly, however, of a burned palace in the reedcleft ascent; faster than a dragon in mourning can make it back home. Many of the clan members seemed shocked to even see her back, and even more surprised to see her alone. Solstice had already prepared a new guard for her, having anticipated this outcome, but she turned him away.
"I'm not going to replace him!" She snarled, glaring at the shining red guardian who stared subserviently at the ground when she looked at him. Solstice stood in her way, blocking her from leaving. "You won't be replacing him." His expression softened, and his tone became gentler when he saw the misery still written all over her face. "You don't have a choice in this. They will be back for you, and they'll be back with a vengeance after failing once. You need to stay in the clan, and you need to be kept safe."
'What if I don't care what happens to me now?' She didn't voice the question, but she knew Solstice saw it in her eyes. "Fine." She finally murmured, before turning to leave. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's for the good of everyone - not just you, but the entire clan. We need you."
It was that very night that she packed her things to leave once again. Her heart ached, and seeing reminders of his presence in their shared den only made things worse. Carefully she draped Malachi's sword around her shoulder, feeling the comfortable weight against her hip. She held the locket in her hand, feeling the warmth that still seemed to pulse within it. It was the only bit of happiness she had left - it was almost like he was still there, even if it was a false hope.
As she slipped out into the darkness, she was surprised to see her guard waiting, stoic and silent in the shadow of the trees. "Milady." He murmured, his voice deep and filled with concern, "I can't let you go on your own. Please allow me to accompany you."
"You shine like a lantern in the dark and you're as tall as some of the trees, and you think you can keep me safe when you stick out like that? You're almost as bad as if I went out wearing a painted on target, and your stomping will alert anyone of our presence from hundreds of meters away." Vitriol and hatred dripped from her words, enough that it surprised even her, but the guardian appeared to be unaffected. "I could also tell Solstice of your departure," he warned. She grumbled under her breath, "I would be gone before he even knew," but she didn't argue with him any more as he followed her into the thick forest.
Guilt and anger swirled within her, making her stomach churn. She hated him for remaining so stiff, for following her, for being the wrong dragon. She hated him because he wasn't Malachi, and she hated herself for being so cruel to him when he had done nothing to deserve it. They walked in silence together, his steps especially careful in the still, quiet night, and she felt a pang in her chest when she realized he had probably taken her words to heart. He was, at the very least, not a talkative dragon, and she felt grateful for the silence. It was needed on a night like this.
The next day, they paused to rest on a hill in the wispwillow grove. They had made good progress, and Atarah felt comfortable stopping for a short time. Her heart tugged her two ways - back to where her egg first came from, the scarred wasteland, or perhaps to the windswept plateau again. She knew it was dangerous, but her heart ached whenever she thought of it, and she couldn't help but hope that somehow by going there she could fix things, or bring him back, even though she knew how illogical it was.
"Come." She glanced at him, and he rose to his feet. "We need to keep moving." They trudged on once again, uncomfortable silence lasting between the two of them. As the days wore on and they travelled the land the scenery slowly changed until small pools began to crop up amongst the fallen trees, a sandy beach visible a ways away from where they were walking. She led the way and he followed, his face a frustrating mask of unreadable emotion almost the entire time they walked.
Malachi... the thought made emotions bubble to the surface once again, and she audibly groaned, miserable and angry all at once. He was always so easy to read. He always knew what to say. Most of all, he was always there - and now all she had was a pale reminder, a dead dragon's sword and the powdered remnants of what he used to be, and some watered down replacement who would never be what she wanted him to be.
Her guard glanced at her, concern once again visible on his face. She glared at him, and he looked away, and then slowed to a halt. She stopped, too, and for a few moments neither moved, silent and still as statues. Finally, he turned to look at her again. She was shocked to see the same sadness she felt in his eyes when his gaze met hers. "I'm sorry." He murmured. "I know it hurts. I felt the same way when I lost my brother, and there was nothing anyone could do for me then, either." His voice was raw with emotion, real emotion, and Atarah choked back a sob. "They tried," he continued, "but nothing can make up for someone you love being suddenly gone from your life. I understand. I understand if you hate me, too, because I know I'm not-"
Before he could continue Atarah collapsed against him, emotion overwhelming her as the scene of Malachi's death replayed over and over in her mind. "I... should have saved him," she sobbed, her head hanging as her guard held her. "It should have been me instead of him. Why couldn't it have been me...?"
Her guard stroked her feather crest, her pain reflected on his face. "He chose to save you." He whispered. "He made the ultimate sacrifice because he saw in you the potential that you have - he recognized the value, the talent, the power that you possess. You need to keep going for him - he would want that, and he would want you to be strong, even though you've lost him." His voice quavered, and Atarah looked up at him to see that he was crying, too. "Sorry." He whispered. She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I've treated you so badly, but none of this has been your fault. All you've done is try to help me."
He smiled softly down at her, brushing away her tears with his claw. "Sometimes all we need is someone who understands." Atarah nodded, her heart aching. "Indeed we do."
They had finally reached the border between the sea, the plateau, and the wasteland. In this corner all three elements seemed to swirl and fight, and the energies surged here in a way that made your stomach tingle uncomfortably. She gazed at the two options before her, torn. Should she really put herself in danger in exchange for a foolish, imaginary glimmer of hope?
"Milady," her guard spoke, breaking her out of her thoughts. She looked over and met his gaze - his faceted eyes were always surprising to her. They were as red as her own, but had so much depth to them, like he could see deeper than just what was immediately visible. "Call me Atarah." She said, her tone distant but more friendly ever since their last conversation. "What do you need?"
He looked hesitant for a moment. "I... was never named." He admitted. "I was hoping... perhaps... since we are to spend so much time together from now on, that you could choose something to call me?" He looked almost embarrassed to have asked. Atarah stayed silent for a long moment, before turning to him with a thoughtful expression. "How about Hendrick?"
His eyes showed the joy he felt, and he smiled, tearing up a bit. "Thank you. Thank you... Atarah."
"The order of the impure." Malachi's words rang bitterly in her ears. None of that mattered now.
It was late into the next day when she found the strength to move again, her aching limbs screaming in protest as she rose from where she had lay in frozen vigil beside the ashes of Malachi's remains. She robotically collected them, but halfway through her resolve broke once again and she released her hands, letting what she had scatter through the air. Her voice when she finally spoke was quiet, betraying the agony she felt through the way it broke on every word as she whispered a fragment of a funeral prayer he had once taught her; "May the wind take you, my friend."
What was left of his ashes she collected, though she wasn't even sure why. She placed the pinch of what was left within a locket he had given her when she was still a hatchling, putting it around her neck for the first time in years. "I thought... we would always be together..." her voice broke once again, and she couldn't stop the tears from flowing, blurring her vision no matter how much she tried to wipe them away. "At least you'll always be close to my heart this way, but things can never..." she trailed off again, gazing into the distance past the veil of tears. "Why?" She whispered. "Why you, Malachi? How can I ever do this without you?"
~*~
She returned to the clan, barely speaking a word to anyone. News travelled quickly, however, of a burned palace in the reedcleft ascent; faster than a dragon in mourning can make it back home. Many of the clan members seemed shocked to even see her back, and even more surprised to see her alone. Solstice had already prepared a new guard for her, having anticipated this outcome, but she turned him away.
"I'm not going to replace him!" She snarled, glaring at the shining red guardian who stared subserviently at the ground when she looked at him. Solstice stood in her way, blocking her from leaving. "You won't be replacing him." His expression softened, and his tone became gentler when he saw the misery still written all over her face. "You don't have a choice in this. They will be back for you, and they'll be back with a vengeance after failing once. You need to stay in the clan, and you need to be kept safe."
'What if I don't care what happens to me now?' She didn't voice the question, but she knew Solstice saw it in her eyes. "Fine." She finally murmured, before turning to leave. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's for the good of everyone - not just you, but the entire clan. We need you."
It was that very night that she packed her things to leave once again. Her heart ached, and seeing reminders of his presence in their shared den only made things worse. Carefully she draped Malachi's sword around her shoulder, feeling the comfortable weight against her hip. She held the locket in her hand, feeling the warmth that still seemed to pulse within it. It was the only bit of happiness she had left - it was almost like he was still there, even if it was a false hope.
As she slipped out into the darkness, she was surprised to see her guard waiting, stoic and silent in the shadow of the trees. "Milady." He murmured, his voice deep and filled with concern, "I can't let you go on your own. Please allow me to accompany you."
"You shine like a lantern in the dark and you're as tall as some of the trees, and you think you can keep me safe when you stick out like that? You're almost as bad as if I went out wearing a painted on target, and your stomping will alert anyone of our presence from hundreds of meters away." Vitriol and hatred dripped from her words, enough that it surprised even her, but the guardian appeared to be unaffected. "I could also tell Solstice of your departure," he warned. She grumbled under her breath, "I would be gone before he even knew," but she didn't argue with him any more as he followed her into the thick forest.
Guilt and anger swirled within her, making her stomach churn. She hated him for remaining so stiff, for following her, for being the wrong dragon. She hated him because he wasn't Malachi, and she hated herself for being so cruel to him when he had done nothing to deserve it. They walked in silence together, his steps especially careful in the still, quiet night, and she felt a pang in her chest when she realized he had probably taken her words to heart. He was, at the very least, not a talkative dragon, and she felt grateful for the silence. It was needed on a night like this.
The next day, they paused to rest on a hill in the wispwillow grove. They had made good progress, and Atarah felt comfortable stopping for a short time. Her heart tugged her two ways - back to where her egg first came from, the scarred wasteland, or perhaps to the windswept plateau again. She knew it was dangerous, but her heart ached whenever she thought of it, and she couldn't help but hope that somehow by going there she could fix things, or bring him back, even though she knew how illogical it was.
"Come." She glanced at him, and he rose to his feet. "We need to keep moving." They trudged on once again, uncomfortable silence lasting between the two of them. As the days wore on and they travelled the land the scenery slowly changed until small pools began to crop up amongst the fallen trees, a sandy beach visible a ways away from where they were walking. She led the way and he followed, his face a frustrating mask of unreadable emotion almost the entire time they walked.
Malachi... the thought made emotions bubble to the surface once again, and she audibly groaned, miserable and angry all at once. He was always so easy to read. He always knew what to say. Most of all, he was always there - and now all she had was a pale reminder, a dead dragon's sword and the powdered remnants of what he used to be, and some watered down replacement who would never be what she wanted him to be.
Her guard glanced at her, concern once again visible on his face. She glared at him, and he looked away, and then slowed to a halt. She stopped, too, and for a few moments neither moved, silent and still as statues. Finally, he turned to look at her again. She was shocked to see the same sadness she felt in his eyes when his gaze met hers. "I'm sorry." He murmured. "I know it hurts. I felt the same way when I lost my brother, and there was nothing anyone could do for me then, either." His voice was raw with emotion, real emotion, and Atarah choked back a sob. "They tried," he continued, "but nothing can make up for someone you love being suddenly gone from your life. I understand. I understand if you hate me, too, because I know I'm not-"
Before he could continue Atarah collapsed against him, emotion overwhelming her as the scene of Malachi's death replayed over and over in her mind. "I... should have saved him," she sobbed, her head hanging as her guard held her. "It should have been me instead of him. Why couldn't it have been me...?"
Her guard stroked her feather crest, her pain reflected on his face. "He chose to save you." He whispered. "He made the ultimate sacrifice because he saw in you the potential that you have - he recognized the value, the talent, the power that you possess. You need to keep going for him - he would want that, and he would want you to be strong, even though you've lost him." His voice quavered, and Atarah looked up at him to see that he was crying, too. "Sorry." He whispered. She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I've treated you so badly, but none of this has been your fault. All you've done is try to help me."
He smiled softly down at her, brushing away her tears with his claw. "Sometimes all we need is someone who understands." Atarah nodded, her heart aching. "Indeed we do."
They had finally reached the border between the sea, the plateau, and the wasteland. In this corner all three elements seemed to swirl and fight, and the energies surged here in a way that made your stomach tingle uncomfortably. She gazed at the two options before her, torn. Should she really put herself in danger in exchange for a foolish, imaginary glimmer of hope?
"Milady," her guard spoke, breaking her out of her thoughts. She looked over and met his gaze - his faceted eyes were always surprising to her. They were as red as her own, but had so much depth to them, like he could see deeper than just what was immediately visible. "Call me Atarah." She said, her tone distant but more friendly ever since their last conversation. "What do you need?"
He looked hesitant for a moment. "I... was never named." He admitted. "I was hoping... perhaps... since we are to spend so much time together from now on, that you could choose something to call me?" He looked almost embarrassed to have asked. Atarah stayed silent for a long moment, before turning to him with a thoughtful expression. "How about Hendrick?"
His eyes showed the joy he felt, and he smiled, tearing up a bit. "Thank you. Thank you... Atarah."
"The order of the impure." Malachi's words rang bitterly in her ears. None of that mattered now.
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They/them
+3 FR time
 Adopt shop
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+3 FR time
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