From their first meeting, Gilthoniel had known this man was the one.
The bells rang, announcing it had been roughly eight hours since she sat down next to his bedside, grasping his hand. They had talked a little, reminiscing. Trying to ignore the situation they were in. The activity had tired him out though, and it didn't take long for him to fall asleep.
Yet she had remained, wishing to be there with him until the end, smiling gently at his wrinkled countenance. Drinking in the sight of his chest moving as he breathed, and trying to remember the feeling of his pulse. Because soon... Soon her memories of him would be all that would remain to her.
Of those eight hours, it had been five hours, 49 minutes and thirty one seconds since his last breath escaped him.
From their first meeting, Gilthoniel had known this man would die long before her.
She had thought she was prepared for the fact, had made peace with it, but when the moment had come, it hurt! It hurt so much! How could anyone live feeling like this? How could she go on like nothing had happened, when part of her just died with him, while the rest of her was stuck here, struck in horror at the thought of an eternity without him stretching before her?
She had shuddered as a single strangled noise escaped her, the only audible sign of her grief. That did not mean it was the only one however, for her frame was soon wrecked with silent sobs. Despite her sensitivity to such things, she was too lost in her anguish to notice the Call when it came.
In the end, she cried herself to sleep during her vigil, finally letting go of his cold hand due to it's embrace.
The words of the white wolf, like all the things that were said before, would go unheard by Elysia. This was not out of malice or her ignoring them on purpose, but rather because she couldn't have understood in the state she was in. She had basically been doing what might as well be the human equivalent of 'coming back online' after a long period without (sensory) input.
She slowly left the agitated state the pain had left her in, as her magic worked on repairing the injuries.
Yes, injuries.
For all that the boy hadn't intended to actually harm her, Elysia hadn't been in that good of a condition to begin with. Magic might be useful, but that didn't take away that she had 'lived' for a long time without sustenance. Even magic, which she generated a little of herself, could not creating something out of nothing, leaving her very vulnerable. Her bones had grown brittle, and her organs had been either on or past the brink of failure to begin with.
Yes, the ambient magic and actual matter to be converted into necessarily substances had helped her own magic a lot in starting to repair the damage, but not that much time had passed between Elysia entering this world and the boy finding her.
Blood dribbled down from the corner of her mouth, staining the previously pure snow a vibrant red. Something which, due to her current positioning, and it only being a few drops could easily go unnoticed.
She kept fading out of and into consciousness for a few minutes, unaware of what was going on around her.
Elysia listened to the explanation, it was nothing she hadn't foreseen, but she couldn't help but feel nervous. A fight might have been easier on her frazzling nerves. She was not quite being used to being around people yet after millennia of isolation, let alone comfortable at being the centre of attention like this.
It was Ixa's words that drew her out of her funk. She smiled, albeit still a bit of a wan one, to the boy, "I'm sure it will!"
She watched as a few of the more confident people in the group she was standing on one of multiple stages with, started their appeals. In some case, that confidence seemed to be founded. In most others it seemed to be decidedly misplaced. Not even a minute had passed before she decided to join in on the fun herself.
She eyed what was already being cast, and how the different magics clashed with each other in a rather unsightly manner.
'This wil not do', she thought to herself, a mischievous smile on her face.
She began to draw on her magic, which in turn drew on the Seed of Wonder hiding itself in her soul. She altered the structure of her magic, which was by nature an amethyst color, to make it shine golden.
As it was, it caused her to seem to be surrounded by a lazily swirling golden haze, birdlike constructs formed of the same golden magic, visible in the vortex. She took the opportunity created by going unseen to transfigure her clothes into something more fitting for the occasion.
All of this, safe for the transfiguration of her clothes, had been pure manipulation of aether, not given purpose as of yet. This, as one might have guessed, was about to change.
She imbued the magic around her with a single purpose, and blasted it outwards. That purpose: Dispel. The magic raced across the field, dispelling whatever displays it was capable of. In the process her new outfit was unveiled, a form-hugging pale green ensemble with white, black accents.
She did a rather good job at hiding just how uncomfortable she was in such a revealing outfit, continuing on with her appeal.
Now that the field was cleared of most magic cast by the rabble that would have lost anyway, whether it be to her, or to other opponents with actual personality, she started her appeal for real.
She raised her arms to the sky, and a giant construct shaped like a bird formed around her. If one had paid attention earlier on, they would have noticed that this bird seemed to be of the same design as the ones flying around the haze earlier.
The bird moved, and a mournful trill could be heard throughout the entire colosseum, reaching even the spectators that where the furthest away. Creating several more effects by shaping her magic, she simultaneously focussed on continuing what turned out to be the approximation of a bird's song. In truth, she controlled strings of magic to create the music.
A portion of the spectators, and even a few contestants broke into tears at the sound. It was a song of loss, of longing, of melancholy. It was song of realisation that what was longed for could no longer be found anywhere but in memories. Yet halfway through an undercurrent that had been there from the beginning, but was not focussed on became the focus of the piece. It seemed to speak of determination, of love, of hope.
What once was may never be again, but every end marks a new beginning. As the music died down the bird flew to the sky, the other effects she had created rising with it. With a final 'cry' the bird and the other visual effects burst into flame, a golden shower of sparks raining down on the platform she was and the others in her group were on.
At the center of these gentle lights, a small construct shaped like an egg appeared in the sky, where the bird, now identified as phoenix used to be. It slowly floated down to Elysia, who appeared to absorb it into her body. She gave a small bow, signalling that she was done.
As she sat down on the edge of the platform, her legs dangling. As the transfiguration on her clothes dispelled, sounds of dismay could be heard once more from her fellow contestants. The first round of grumbling had come when their magic had been dispelled mid-action. The second however, was when they determined those gentle lights from earlier, which stuck to them, were draining their magic bit by bit. They gave her the stink eye, but she didn't see nor care. That performance had drained her emotionally, if not magically.
She'd start paying attention again when Ixa decided to come out and play.
Atargatis and Saggitae had been eclipsed some time earlier, and a veil of false serenity had settled itself over the Cradle of Life. Understandable perhaps, since most would choose to be asleep when darkness fell, but there was precious little peace to be found in these troubled times, least of all in dreams, as a certain Ithildin could attest to.
It was only moments after the eclipse ended, that Aerlinde managed to open her eyes, a bone deep weariness clearly visible in them. Finally she had escaped the grasp of the nightmare that had haunted her. A nightmare she could clearly name, but did not, in fear of provoking the entity to materialize in the waking world.
A ridiculous fear, some might might claim, but they did not know, could not know about It, what with the zeal her House had suppressed rumors of It's existence with, since It first started to appear before them. It's 'visitations' had only grown more frequent since, each generation having it worse in that regard.
With a sigh she stood up, and started to free herself of the sleeping gown she was in. She let it fall unto the bed, and made her way to the other side of the room, where her robes for the day were draped over a chair. Many of her station would let a servant dress them, but she was not one of them, not anymore.
She was not one to be ashamed of the scars her body held. They had healed remarkably well, all things considered. That did not take away the fact that many did not like looking upon them. She might not have been ashamed, but she would also not expose them to one that did not wish to see the grim reminders of what had happened all those centuries ago.
When she finished dressing herself, she made her way through the estate, to the dinner hall, where her brother would be waiting.