Dryad

Her heart was cold, dead soil.
It wasn’t going to come back to life. No, not even if life went on around her – springs and summers coming and going, bursting with blooms and vibrant with flowers.
Dryad felt very far away from it all. Mute. Silent.
One night, when she was on the brink of sleep, she suddenly heard his voice again: Love. Love of mine.
She startled from her feverish doze. She never truly slept now, not really. She awoke with a cry and hurried to the window, looking out.
And there she saw his spirit. Anubis, her loved one, above the ocean. His spirit was surrounded by whirling, golden sparks.
And he looked happy – so very happy
Love, please don’t worry about me. His voice was sad. At the end of his words, thunder boomed.
She gaped. “Not worry about you? How could I not worry about you! You’re — you’re gone!”
As if her words killed him, his spirit broke into millions of tiny golden points of light. She cried out and fell to her knees. Her daughter, Noir, was beside her in an instant, comforting her.
~*~
Some bonds of love are too great to be broken.
The bond that’s killing Dryad is one of love. Ever since her mate Anubis went into the bosom of the Arcanist, she has never been the same.
Once a proud, fearless leader, she now wanders aimlessly around Mistborn Hollow, a shade of her former self.
Her daughter trails her footsteps. At least Noir is growing up. But as Noir is growing, she’s growing cold, dim to the outside world, because of her mother.
For even though Dryad loves, she looks only inside herself.
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