Erythis’s very soul felt strained, worn, and tired. Her body
was fit and pure, but it was as though she had rotted from the inside out.
Behind her, the ancient, beautiful forests of the First Kingdom, and before
her, the permanently closed entrance to the rest of the world, the Gate of the
Eternal Sun.
The gate itself was a massive structure that bridge the gap
between the stark valley that was the Pass. Crimson towers stretching fifty
meters into the sky were capped with golden spires and its windows, which
descended with the spiral of the staircase that must have been inside were made
of stained glass. They were joined together by a headboard that sat mere inches
above the actual gates. Guards were stationed in its depths, looking down at
Erythis and Alorinis.
The gates themselves were a more exotic sight. In the place
of conventional wood or metal, a shimmering surface existed in the negative
space between towers and headboard. Flecks of gold were visible in its
glistening countenance, and it radiated enormous power. Standing before it were
ten guards, adorned in the azure and golds of the royal guard. The halberds
they held were shined to a blinding sheen that radiated perfection while the
swords on their hips, sheathed, spoke of the honour of their station with the
ornate nature of the sheath.
“Erythis,” Alorinis spoke with a strange seriousness in his
voice, “Are you ready?”
There was no trepidation, no fear. Nor was there excitement
or joy, however: she was numb, her spirit so fatigued by her magicks a week
past. She could only allow a nod, and approached the shimmering surface, the
guards neither acknowledging them nor ignoring them. In its brilliant, golden
flecked surface, Erythis found her reflection.
Bags hung under her once brilliant verdant eyes, and her
skin seemed, instead of porcelain, it was an ugly, pale and lifeless colour.
Her mouth was a thin line as she tried to summon the determination she felt
appropriate for the moment, but it looked as though she was simply curling her
lips in and nothing more. Her hair, too, had been effected. The lustre that the
crimson locks were so famous for had been dulled by her actions, and as well a
white streak appeared off to the side of the top of her forehead and fell down
beside her face.
“I have been here…” She murmured listlessly, lifting her
hand toward the protective barrier. “But when?”
Alorinis turned to face her, “Really, you need help. You’ve
been so taxed… We can turn around.” His tone was a concerned one, and he laid a
hand on her shoulder. The flesh of another felt cold and unwelcome, and so she
let it slide off her slender mantle. “Talk to me, Ery. I know you don’t know me
but I’m here to help.”
Erythis closed the distance between her fingertips and the
barrier, brushing it like one would a canvas with a paintbrush. A magical
charge rushed through her, offering temporary invigoration and mental clarity –
something she felt so acutely robbed of. “Yes, I have been here,” she stated.
“I know we won’t meet
again,” a much younger Erythis spoke
miserably, “But I don’t want you to forget me, or I you.” Her words hung in the
air with an uneasy stillness, reminding her of the crushing loneliness that was
to come. Her crimson locks, barely below her shoulders, were tousled in a gust
of wind that passed through the gate they stood next to, and she impulsively
shivered. She was not cold; that was almost an impossibility, but instead it
was the chill of abandonment, of misery incarnate.
The figure across from
her, clad in the ritual garb of his kind: a linen tunic comprised of dual
colours of cream and cobalt. His pants were of similar colouration, though he
wore no shoes. His black hair was short and messy, giving him a youthful
appearance. But his azure eyes conveyed a sadness only she knew.
He cupped her face
with a smooth hand, caressing her cheek with his thumb, “I will miss you with
every fibre of my being.” His words conveyed a terrible finality that she felt
she was being crushed under, “When I return, I will no longer be me…” He tilted
his head to meet her gaze, “Please, Erythis, never forget me. My memory will
live on through you.”
She placed her hand
over his, removing it from her face and holding it in both of hers. He followed
suit and intertwined his fingers with her. “As long as I live, you as you are
here before me, the cherished soul who gave my pampered life substance and
meaning, will be honoured and remembered,” her voice failed her as tears streamed
down her face, but she soldiered through her words, determined to send him off
with all the love she could convey.
The youth before her
bowed his head, his shoulders trembling as tears fell from his unseen eyes. “You
honour me…” He closed the distance between the two of them, and placed upon her
lips a chaste, final kiss. “In another life we would have been together
forever… I would like to think that, somewhere, you and I exist, old lovers
bonded by time and grace.”
He removed his fingers
and picked up the knotted piece of wood that was his staff, stepped toward the
gate’s precipice before turning, his eyes still wet with tears, and spoke one
bittersweet word: “Goodbye.”
Erythis felt as though, for a brief moment, the warmth of
another hand enveloped her own. A strong, firm grip of her long lost beloved.
Tears too streamed from her face, and she could see in her reflection the look
of utter shock on her features. The sorceress, no longer a miserable youth, now
a sorceress of the realm, turned to face her home, the shimmering parapets of
the capital barely visible, and with a great deal of emotion, spoke: “Goodbye.”
She turned and stepped through the gate, the warmth of the
hand now as though someone dear to her held her in a loving embrace for but a
split second. The sensation was momentarily overwhelming and she took a brief
repose to compose herself before moving on.
Alorinis was at her side, offering her shoulder a light
squeeze. “Are you okay?”
She could not help but smile at the normally exuberant man’s
display of kindness and concern. But it was only now that she could answer him:
“Yes… I just remembered… an old love from my youth. Perhaps I will meet him
while I am here?”
The ranger grinned, “Maybe you will.” He gave her a light
push, “C’mon Ery, let’s go. That prince twit won’t find himself!”
Erythis smirked in spite of herself and started off in front
of her, her own staff clacking on the occasional rock on the dry road below
them. Around them the narrow mountain pass was barren of life and given its
sharp curve ahead she could not see the exit that she suspected was nearby.
The two followed the curve in the path, and again, before
finally being presented with a truly remarkable sight. The mountains above her
simply ended nearly as a sheer rock face. The pass thus just ended and was like
a hallway into a grand ballroom. But no such paltry place could prepare the
sorceress for the sight before her.
Endless highlands stretched out before her. The lands were
neatly separated into huge squares and rectangles, all of which was clearly
being farmed. “The breadbasket of Albion: the northern prairies. Amazing, isn’t
it?” Alorinis commented, clearly having seen it before but also very impressed.
Erythis looked east and saw the distant coastline, and to
the West more farms. Directly ahead and south she could also see naught but
farm and prairie, though she knew the industrial powerhouse of the Albion Union
would be found: Lordaeron. The sun shone brightly in the noonday, cloudless
sky. It was a happy scene, and the power of the sun filled her body with
strength and vitality. She took a deep breath of the dry prairie air in, and
felt cleansed as a gentle wind rolled over her statuesque figure.
“Well, we could keep gawking. Or we could try to find a
couple of horses and not walk for a year,” Alorinis posited with a cheeky tone.
Erythis nodded, “Yes, let’s.”
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