Wind gathered about the gathering within the Glomdoring Forest, catching along stray leaves to shatter them against the hungry dawn. Robed in black, a circle of Shadowdancers watched Metea bow over Druken's seemingly sleeping body. The nearby bards had ceased their playing, their funeral procession songs having been given over to the crushing silence that hung from the staring trees. Metea's mind raced with the fact that this was the end, her life flashing brilliantly before her eyes. A single tear trailed its way down her face and landed upon Druken's pale lips, sullen and reposed. As she bent to kiss the tear, Catarin turned away and looked onto the rising sunlight that peaked through the trees like children playing hide and seek amongst gravestone markers. Indeed, the dawn has come. However cruel it may be, it has come.

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After Murphy had raced away to whatever hole it was his kind hid in, Shayle had found herself enraged at the disrespect shown thus far. Someone is going to pay for this, she vexed as she spun around to find Metea leaning over Druken's face with her lips close to his.

"That is enough. You will both leave now, or I will have you killed," she barked, pointing a finger at Metea threateningly. Her order was ignored, Metea placing her lips upon Druken's and kissing him like a farewell kiss to a lover. Before she could grab her athame, the sunlight that raced through the forest boughs and canopy centered upon Metea, illuminating her form as she continued to kiss Druken. By the Lady, what in the Nil is going on here?!, she asked herself, but a voice from within her mind rose to answer the question. Watch, my child. Watch. Viravain's presence echoed out about Shayle, her divine power infusing the Queen of the Night. Shadows rose about the place to fight the light that was emanating from Metea but failed miserably to quench it. Druken's eyes fluttered for a brief moment before opening, his eyes crossing comically to stare at woman who now pressed her lips against his. The light that surrounded her forced him to shut his eyes again, closing them beneath the brilliance. Something stirred within him, pain, and loss filling his mind like echoes off a mountainside. Just as it all had happened, it stopped. Metea slid from the stone table, her body collapsing on the ground in a heap of blackberry hair and pale skin. Shayle watched with confusion, glancing first to Metea's unconscious form and then to Druken. She could not help but give a slight cry of surprise, seeing him sit up and look about dizzily.

A gruff voice whispered from behind her, a voice that sounded as if to hold the weight of the world upon each syllable. "Your shadowdancer awaits you, Queen of the Night." Shayle turned to look at the back of Catarin, her golden armor catching the dawn's first light in a resplendent display. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought Catarin to be a newly awakened goddess, but her straight back and her hair catching against the first morning breeze only spoke of what the woman would not.

"Was she...did that girl just resurrect Druken?" Shayle asked quietly, forgetting about the shadowdancers who now gathered about the stone table and cheered at the dazed Druken. Catarin didn't turn around, her eyes still held upon the morning sun that hung on the horizon. Silence was the only thing given back to Shayle in response; a sickening silence that felt too much like a cold despair and agony. "I don't understand...," she whispered more to herself than to Catarin, her brow furrowing into a frown.

"No. You wouldn't understand," Catarin said simply, stepping into the forest and away from the grove. Shayle watched her depart, catching glimpses of her as the sunlight seemed to usher her away as it glinted off her golden armor and hair. She watched the woman until she could see her no longer, and even then, she continued to stare at where she had stood. Unbeknownst to her or to the others, shadows crawled about the quiet form of Metea to embrace her as a mother would nestle her child. No one saw Viravain take the girl into her arms, an expression of reserved sorrow wrought on the goddess' face as she looked down to Metea's pale face and closed eyes. The goddess turned her back to the dawn and stepped into the maze of shadowed trees, disappearing as quietly as she had come.

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The Glomdoring Forest was unnaturally quiet that day, a disturbing and eerie silence falling over the trees amongst those who celebrated Druken's miraculous resurrection. The wind did not dare rustle a single leaf, crows did not dare give their shrieking call, and the shadows did not dare move from their places as the forest wept for sacrifice.

Like it. Though I'd question Catarin leaving her only daughter's body in the middle of the forest.

I'll be covering specific question in the next chapter, when I go back in time for the readers and explain how and why Catarin and Metea came to Glomdoring as they did.

I wrote in the last chapter's post by istake... so anyway.... Marina! Let me appear in the story... as an extra... something like -there was a shiny silverly trill slaying oozes that day on glomdoring's swamps- or whatever

Now, now, Herl. Just because you spend ridiculous amounts of time in Glomdoring for a Celestian doesn't mean you should go begging for inclusion in a story just to help your ego.







That being said, where's Veyda?

A delayed response, I apologize, but it seemed appropriate to read all of the parts before commenting.

I enjoyed following the various strands of the plot as you developed and gathered them throughout the chapters. Your use of metaphor, in particular, helped to vividly evoke actions and surroundings. Of course, I respect your interpretation of the characters also.

I'm curious to read the conclusion.