A beautiful silence. The aether cocoons me in his light embrace, ready to
release me at a moment's notice so I might soar free. Lights flicker on the
edge of my consciousness, briefly illuminating the silhouettes of the beasts
that inhabit these empyrean pathways. I am aware of their presence yet I do not
fear it. I know the strength of my bite and the swiftness of my flight. They
cannot touch me. But I can touch them.

With a thought I whirl into motion, my silence giving way to the furious
rushing of my power returning to full force. The beasts pause and turn towards
me as one, their hunger palpable even across this vast distance. Come then, I
silently challenge them. And they do.

Their roars merge into one wave of pulsating sound, breaking over me in a
crescendo of noise. I tremble in anticipation, one tendril of my consciousness
slowly bringing my weapons to bear in preparation for the coming dance. The
gorgogs meet me first, mindless in their rage, they reach for me with twisted
limbs. I smile as I shift to the side, letting their momentum carry them
harmlessly past me. They soon recognize the mistake of their rashness as I fire
three strong blasts of burning aether into their midst. The roar of my fire does
not quite drown out the shrieks of their pain. You have to be faster than that,
I taunt them wordlessly. Much faster than that.

Now the lixin is here with the cloier and a slanikk close behind. The gorgogs
flow as one for another sally. This is more like it. Without conscious thought
I dodge their fangs and claws. A half turn here. A shift to the left there. A
drop in elevation and then surge upwards again. I am free and lost in the joy
of the battle. All of me acts as one. I burn my aggressors, I replenish myself,
I dart in and out with the grace of years of practice.

And there is silence again. I am triumphant and they are dust. What is more
pure than this? A thought drifts into my consciousness. Home? I am home. Here
in the aether, without care or worry. Kill or be killed. Flying free. What
other home could I want? A vision forms of a dock high above a shining city.
Home. I turn my thoughts northwards. I remember this place. And as I remember I
am there, circling above the dock lazily twice before settling into my berth.
Home.

With a wrench made no less painful from long practice, I am once more in a form
more suited to this world. Two legs, two arms, one mind. Infinitely less
graceful. I adjust myself to the sudden burden of my weight and slowly open my
eyes. I gaze across the room and lock eyes with my Empath. There is no need for
words. We both know the other is feeling the same crushing sense of separation.

I go about the business of post flight mechanics, pondering on this phenomenon
as I always do. We never speak of it. We never speak of how we purposefully
extend our missions past the point of necessity simply to avoid this awful
feeling that descends once we are done. But what is there to say? One moment
you are infinitely powerful and intimately connected to a whole far greater
than yourself. There is no we. There is only I. The perfect harmony of a crew
in synch with one another. The perfect beauty of a tremendous violence
perpetrated with a grace that is breathtaking to behold.

We always come "home" though. We step away from one another and go about our
business trying desperately to banish the feeling that threatens to overwhelm
our sense. Only those who are joined together so wholly and then torn apart
experience this feeling. This feeling of alone.