((Idiot phone...))

((Post got messed up on potr's end - here's the full thing))

Adeila flinched slightly, but a few hastily uttered syllables prevented the fiery projectiles from reaching their target. Even as the glow dispelled, she raised a hand to strike him, only to stop a mere inch from his face. ''Do not,'' she said coolly, ''mistake the conscious decision not to strike for the inability to do so.''

How dare he? How dare he refer to Merrin's sacrifice so flippantly? How dare he act as though all others - even the gods themselves - were mere pawns in his quest for power? She lowered her hand, but her gaze remained steadily locked with his. ''You are correct,'' she said slowly, carefully. ''I am but a healer, and I do not pretend to fully understand all that has transpired. But I have learned far more in my time as a healer than how to dress a wound. I have learned that no matter how hopeless a situation may seem, there is always potential for recovery. I have learned that even the most insignificant change may determine life or death. I have learned that to truly accomplish anything, one must first give freely of oneself. And I have learned that the will of the gods will always prevail.''

Drawing a deep breath, Adeila stepped back slightly and forced her hands to unclench. ''I will not stop you,'' she said evenly. ''But bear this in mind: the gods sacrificed their Chosen to reclaim this shard. Do you honestly believe that they will be deterred by one mortal's misplaced ambition?''

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The Celestial Shard had hovered suspended in the pillar of green, and as soon as Garthag snatched it out, the entire column began trembling. It flared yellow, then white, before dissolving into a blinding myriad of colors that tossed rainbows far across the lake. The murky waters frothed. Prominences arced high into the void above to explode in storms that rained lightning upon the cavern.

Awoken by the tempest, souls stirred from their eternal slumbers. They spun out from the pillar, their spectral forms whirling around Garthag and Adeila, the silver shadows in their wake colliding to form a maelstrom. Around and around they danced - those flickering memories of heads and hands and feet. Around and around that tiny spit of rock. Around and around the mortals who had dared to wake them from oblivion.

Two figures disengaged themselves from the maelstrom. The first was a woman. Her hair was woven of shadows, her skin kissed by darkness. Souls parted before her beauty. She beheld the Celestial Shard in Garthag's fist, and her depthless eyes smoldered with a passion far brighter than the lust of any mortal.

A hand, shimmering and insubstantial, stroked Garthag's cheek. She smiled. "You have done well, my mageling. Simply give me the Shard, and I will grant you power beyond anything you have ever dreamed."

But before Garthag could hand it over - before he could surrender to the Seeress - another voice broke through the tempest. It was the clear voice of a girl whose black hair hung in tatters around her pale face. She gazed at the mage with wide, unblinking eyes - a sister's eyes. Little Liliane her name was, and her soul had grown weary of sleeping in darkness.

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The Seeress appeared, Garthag didn`t even flinch, not one single muscle on his face moved as the ghostly apparition promised to grant him his long overdue wish of ultimate power. Little, innocent, Liliane formed before him from the maelstrom of souls and set in motion another storm. The wind picked up again and Garthag was enveloped by the eye of the storm as he stared in disbelief at his younger sister.

The steel of his eyes, the cold frozen shell of emotionless shattered as he Garthag took one step forward, past the seeress and the power she offered. Whatever anyone or anything would have done at that single moment to gain Garthag`s attention, they would have failed miserably in their attempts. He was already beyond their words, his ears would not register a single sound they made and his eyes were locked at his little sister.

Slowly, but determined Garthag approached Liliane with the shard in hand and silently stared her, still in disbelief, that she had appeared. Was it truly her? Not a vision? Not a memory, that he had held dear, but the very soul of his own, pure, sister? He could not see the trickery he expected to find, the seeress herself had materialized from the very same maelstrom and that alone was proof enough, that Liliane was truly herself. Garthag reached out his hand to brush Liliane`s cheek as she simply stared, blank at him with those eyes.

It was incomprehensible to himself how her stare was able to shatter him so, but he remained calm and squeezed tighter onto the shard within the grasp of his left hand. Little Liliane simply smiled innocently back at him, cutting at his soul again, unconsciously, but deeply.

"It`s you, Lily, isn`t it?" Garthag whispered with a weak, unbelieving voice, that he had forced out of his dry throat.

"It`s been a while huh? No more cuts nor bruises unlike the last time and the pain is gone as well so you don`t have to worry about me. Mom tough, she worries, like always. She thinks you`ve been led astray, a lot, by people and that woman, except that she is not human, not like us. The others think alike, that she`s like him, the old man, but she`s not trying to hide it....

But whatever you choose, I won`t judge because you never judged me, remember... just don`t judge others like you are the only one in pain, don`t be like me."

Lily talked with absolute calm and in a way, that she would never want to criticize nor harm her brother, who was at a crossroads in his life, at a point where he held the power to change the world for better or for worse. Whatever Garthag would choose, she wouldn`t mind nor hate him for it and in truth Garthag hated that about her, she was too kind and pure to even see the ambition or hunger festering within him.

However it also remained as the greatest reason of all why she held such an influence over him, but in the end they both knew she let him make his own decisions, come to his own conclusions.

"Lily... remember..." Garthag began a brief, but effective sentence as he did not even have to bring it to an end before Lily had guessed what he was talking about.

"That day we talked about father?" She inquired as her expression grew more serious, more sorrowful, that she began to remind Garthag of their mother.

"Yes"

Garthag muttered, absentmindedly as, if the two of them had stood alone within the maelstrom and the world around them was at peace. Ignoring the gazes and opinions of both of the hags, they conversed in complete tranquility within the maelstrom of souls from where the two had earlier parted from. The simple reference to their father and that particular conversation was enough for Garthag to recall, that seemingly ordinary day, but in fact there was nothing ordinary about it.

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Garthag gazed upon his study, consisted of various scripts and books, spread across the table before turning to answer the voice of his mother. He had been working for many hours in the morning, studying and memorizing various knowledge his master had not even encouraged him to learn. However the sheer will to prove his worth was strong within Garthag and he spent many hours alone, with the sole purpose to impress his master. Alas he had dabbled with alchemy, the very first thing he had been taught by his master, and the very first, minor, spell his master had granted for him to utilize.

They seemed simple enough to a skilled mage, who would only laugh at the request of one to be performed, but for Garthag it was as far as he could go thus far. Yet he would reach, that level one day where he could look upon his old studies and laugh at the fact, that he had even bothered to do so.

"Have you seen Liliane about? It`s time for dinner and I haven`t seen her for a many hours, could you fetch her for me?" A steady and slightly exhausted voice called out from the main room of the house constructed mainly out of timber.

"No I have not seen her, I´ve been here the whole day..."

Garthag uttered with frustrated tone, truly, he did not wish to bother with his sister. He had always had to run after her, guiding and showing example, in truth he grew weary of it. At her current age, which was 12, he had been far more independent and decisive in his life, not to mention heeded schedule as he was meant to. An awkward silence fell upon the modest house they inhabited, only the sound of the wind blowing outside and the fire crackling in the fireplace could be heard. Finally, bothered, Garthag sighed and broke the silence when he slammed one of his books closed, annoyed.

Garthag quickly proceeded into the main room of the cottage, that was the heart of their home and branched out to two other rooms. Garthag`s own study was modest and the great differences it had with the main room was that it did not have a window, a large table, a fireplace and a bear fur hanging from the wall. With long, quick phased steps Garthag made his way to the cottage door, where he grabbed a gray, worn out cloak from the wall and drew it around himself. Before exiting the house he gazed at his mother, who stood by the fireplace, gazing at the fire within.

In Garthag`s eyes, she always seemed distant and somehow guilty as, if there had been an unknown weight pulling her down. There was also a hint of sorrow in her eyes, that Garthag had caught sometimes from the corner of his eye, but he had never dared bring it up. Physically she was the same as ever, healthy and enduring, but mentally it felt she was scarred and those scars she never dared show. Lily never saw her in that frigid light as she had never seen her before their father had departed, abandoned them and Garthag knew it was for the better.

Little Liliane shouldn`t have to witness her scars, but at least someone else knew of them, that was enough in his eyes. Garthag sighed as he forced himself outside, against the cold breeze, that hit him in the face as he stepped outside. Quickly he headed for the southern side of town, quite simply because he knew where Lily was. Soon enough he recognized a lone figure sitting upon a partially snow covered boulder, that stood stoically in a downward slope of the hill, that their village stood upon. Quietly, if that was possible due to the snow, he approached her and sat besides her.

The signs were clear as they both stared out into the plains, the dry, frozen tears, that grimaced her cheeks told a tale, that Garthag knew needed someone to hear it. She had wrapped around herself like a snowball, hands around her knee`s like she was attempting to protect herself from some horror in her life.

"So? What happened?" Garthag inquired with a calm, patient tone as he gazed at the snowy plains, before them, and beyond. His voice seemed to awaken Lily from her state of silence and shock.

"I heard some people talk... about.. fa.. dad..." Lily said with a shy, uncomfortable tone and looked slightly to her left, away from her brother. The word dad or father seemed painful to even spell for Lily, it was even for Garthag and that was why he tended to prefer the words `that *beep*, who abandoned us`.

"They said it`s been exactly 12 years since he left... I heard them then talk about how odd it was, that the son of such a skilled huntsman would be forced to be the student of that old weird man.... but.. they also say whether he couldn... take the knowledge.. of my existence... do you.. think he left because... of me?"

She continued with a tearful tone, that made her stumbled in her words and to stop the flood of tears Garthag grabbed her head and pressed it against his own shoulder to calm her. Seemingly at first this had no effect, but his words seemed to have an effect, they seemed safe and sound, that did not condemn her for ever being born and heeded her not to care about the stupid gossiping of the villagers.

"Listen Lily... He did not leave because of you, otherwise he would have already fled at the first sign of my existence, I don`t think it was us nor the burden we would bring, that made him leave. It`s like mother told us, he had somethings to do, some battles to fight and he chose to face them instead of staying with his family.

It`s not our fault he left, never our fault, that people gossip about us behind our backs. It`s his fault and his alone, that *beep* left us from his own free will and that is why we have to stay strong. We can`t let his desires and lack of love affect our world.... We`ve come this far and once I become skilled, also rich enough I´ll take us away to a proper town, where no one will know about our father..."

Garthag said with a fiercely determined and convinced tone, that was fueled by his hatred towards their father. He understood all too well what she had been talking about, he had heard every little dirty gossip about his own family at her age and he had pulled trough it on his own. He had grieved alone, in the shadows, in the darkest corner of his room and lied to everyone else about whether he had cried. He had slowly ran out of tears of the sake of their worthless father as he had run out of patience for him.

He had left, but actually come back a few times only to leave again, at first Garthag had greeted him with joy, but then he had only ran away when he had come to visit them. That was the very last time he ever visited his family, Lily could not even recall anything about those times and no wonder, but Garthag did and he would not forget nor forgive.

After a brief moment of silence Lily raised her head and wiped away the trails of tears from her cheeks before gazing towards the plains with a dreamy, hope filled face.

"But wouldn`t it be nice, if he came back? If we could be a whole, happy family just for once, even a single day? You could impress him with your studies, mom would be a lot happier no doubt and I`d get to see him for the first time.... wouldn`t it be nice?"

She inquired with a dreaming, almost happy tone of voice and Garthag couldn`t help, but chuckle at the whole thought of seeing his father once again. He wouldn`t know what to say or do, whether to hug his father or punch the *beep*, who abandoned them for the sake of of some misplaced honor. He nodded quietly and smiled slightly.

"It might be nice"

It was a terrible lie and they both knew it, but at least it was a beautiful thought.

-----------

Garthag gazed quietly at Liliane, who stared back at him, unshakably and with hopeful eyes.

"He made his choice, whether my path is like his I don`t care, but I must make my choice and in essence it is similar.... I am sorry, but I have to do this, in order to confirm something to myself... Goodbye Little Liliane"

He said with a regret filled voice and backed away from Liliane, who simply shook her head with a frustrated smile on her face. Garthag with a determine look in his eyes, the gray steel had returned to them and they turned to stare at The Seeress. Garthag with a few steps approached her and nodded to her with a quirk smile on his face.

"Family" He said with a careless and uncaring tone whilst slightly shrugging.

"Stupid brother"

Liliane whispered as, if disappointed, beyond his hearing as Garthag held out his right hand towards The Seeress and threw the shard across the air. As the shard flew across the air, Garthag knew his fate was sealed and Liliane had already predicted how he would act. She knew him too well, she had too great influence over him, but in turn she had remained dependent on him. Yet from this point on, no longer would they cling to each others, they had to chosen to move on and let each others be, one dead and other alive. They both quietly, enchanted stared as the shard spun trough the air towards it`s destination.

The shard finally ended laying at her feet and Garthag smiled at her, this after all had been what she had wanted all along and now Garthag had granted her that wish. Garthag`s smile was filled with, actual, human emotion, that could have been described as amused relief. An inhuman shriek broke out within the maelstrom, but it was beyond his hearing and beneath his notice.

He simply stared trough at her, smiling whilst not feeling a wound struck with vicious vengeance into his left shoulder. Garthag quietly, stunned, gazed at the blood flowing slowly from his shoulder and ruining his snow white robes. He picked a touch of it with his fingers with an amused expression grimacing his face and managed to force out a relieved chuckle out of his throat. Garthag then stared at Adeila at whose feet the shard lay at the moment, but never, despite wounded, ceased his smiling.

"I suppose... I am only human.. after all"

He uttered with relief before allowing the pain of the fresh wound and the toll of the earlier battle to swarm him as he collapsed onto the floor besides the pedestal. Whilst laying on his side, he felt the maelstrom changing as he stared at it and he saw Lily there, along with a number of other people. He saw them all, recognized each and everyone, but couldn`t help stop smiling like a madman at them.

He had chosen not to abandon them, not to abandon people like them and not to betray his traveling companions, but most important of all he had preserved his own humanity. He had seen what this being had done to The Lich, whom had an earlier connection to her and certainly a similar, repulsive fate would have awaited him. However he could not swear to himself, that this was not a selfless act, but actually quite the opposite.

In any case, that was not the thing in his mind at the moment as he stared, enchanted as the souls of all he had known slowly disappeared from his sight. He did not know whether he were to join them soon, but it seemed likely and he did not mind, he was not afraid to die here because he saw his own purpose fulfilled.

Garthag could not, but help wonder an odd thing, that had no relation to anything taking place at the moment.

A shame... I always thought I`d die in the middle of a snowy field whilst a white rain would slowly cover the ground anew, not in a dank dungeon like this. Oh saps, I suppose you can`t have it all...

He quietly thought to himself as he laid on his back, staring at towards darkness of the cavern above him whilst his blood was starting to form a small pond around his left shoulder. Garthag closed his eyes as he breathed steadily, death was not a defeat to him, not anymore, he might as well join the chosen and his own family on the other side, if the world would be at peace. At the moment his desires were simple and plain, there was not much he could do about his own fate as he had before attempted to steer it to a new path. Death seemed fine, but living might be an interesting choice as well, but it seemed that those things were beyond his power to decide.

He was only human after all.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Past the fading hosts of dead, beyond the lake, unconcerned with the shard and the Seeress and the struggles of humanity, the spark hovered. It flickered, the most fragile of tiny candle flames. Its frail light glimmered only ephemerally on the cavern’s dark obsidian. The slightest breath of air could have extinguished its timid glow. But the air in this underworld was still. Waiting.

It hovered. Over her heart.

<center>- - -</center>

Far above, past the cavern's vaulted confines, past the spear of green, past the silent towers of broken Dey'tarn, past even the heights of the mountains and their peaks wreathed in chill cloud, past the sun and all the stars of the universe, so far that no dragon could have flown the impossible distance...the eyes of divinity watched.

They watched, and in their silence there was the immortal anguish of millennia. Their eyes saw even the depths of the underworld. Their hands, the hands which cupped the glittering sphere of the universe, did not move to stem the flow of their diamond tears. Their communion was silent, as silent as the stars.

Many times, when the rage of the gods overflowed, their anger rolled through the heavens with the thunder, and their fury flashed with the lightning. When their tears fell, the cleansing quietude of rain swept the earth. The sun, their light on the expanse of the world, shone with the steadiness that was the gods' eternal presence.

Cloud veiled the skies above a broken temple in Dey'tarn; the veil of those mourning. But there was no rain of diamond tears.

The eyes of divinity looked down. The question they had asked for countless years shone in the sun, beat down with the rain, rolled with the thunder. Do you believe? they said. It was heard in the footsteps over Dey'tarn's broken streets, in the whisper of the long grass that grew over the remains of their temple. Do you believe?

And the hands of divinity reached down.

<center>- - -</center>

Silence weighted the cavern. The waters of the lake had ceased to lap against the rocky shores, and fell subdued into mere ripples. The eternal spear of green pulsed its steady glow, dully reflecting on black stone and black water. The shard gleamed. The spark flickered.

The faintest breath of sighing wind whispered through the chamber, like a memory of the world above. Perhaps it carried words, for any who listened. Perhaps it whispered, so quiet as to be lost...

Do you believe?

The spark guttered, pulsed, swelled. A ribbon of luminosity sparkled from midair and lengthened, coruscating, coaxing glimmers from the dull obsidian. It reached, twining about the still form of the Chosen of the Gods. It touched the marks of tears on her cheeks, pale in death. It smoothed away the icy caress of skeletal fingers, knit the scrapes on her hands, wiped away the bruises as though they had never existed. It brushed her lips, as though longing to breathe air once more into the silence of death, and the heartbeat spark throbbed.

Then, like a dream of light, the ribbon vanished, and again all was still. The spark, whose pulsing candle flame remained the only fragile memory of a sun above, fell to ephemeral glitters. Its beat faltered, stilled.

The dwindling waves of the subterranean sea hushed on stone in a soft lament. The breeze had died, and with it the words.

For a time only counted by heartbeats, the cavern was utterly silent.

Then the sun entered the realm of darkness.

Obsidian became blinding, lustrous gold. Silver raked the last shadows from their lairs and smote them down. The eruption roiled the lake of night, stirred it and flung it into every corner of the cavern with a roar to deafen even the sleeping dead. Dark water flashed into a million faceted droplets, each a gem of its own, each a diamond lit within by incredible brilliance. The walls of the chamber became as parchment, insignificant, without a hope of containing heaven's power. The lake, like a mirror, reflected the glorious storm above. Mere humanity was forgotten.

Thunder was the voice of the gods. And tendrils of blazing lightning were their hands.

The brilliance reflected in the roiling lake gravitated toward the shore. It formed a maelstrom, a divine storm contained within the fragile boundaries of stone. Thunder cracked and rolled.

Within the calm eye of the storm, the first finger of lightning gently curled around the still form of the Chosen of the Gods. In the strange quiet, the peace amid celestial chaos, bright hands lifted her with all the gentleness of a healer tending to a wound.

Do you believe? roared the thunder.

Lightning wrapped her, shrouded her, until the Chosen of the Gods was merely a faint silhouette. Light broke from her every fingertip, radiated around her in a shimmering corona, until it seemed as though the brilliance must swallow her whole. Ringed in that cyclone of glory, she rose, drawn upward as though heaven would receive her.

The roar grew deafening. The foundations of the underworld trembled.

One more explosion. Innumerable sparks dashed against the confines of the cavern, then coalesced, then -

Vanished.

A single pinpoint remained. Its heartbeat pulse fluttered, soared. It plunged to where the maelstrom had laid her once more, hovered over her heart, sank in with a last intrepid glimmer.

Her fingertips, so fragile, flickered once with heaven's light.

Merrin opened her eyes.

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He watched it all as if through someone else's eyes.

The white-robed figure in the center of the lake grasped the crystalline glimmer that was the Celestial Shard. A maelstrom of shrieking specters scattered the shadows around him, veiling him from sight. The maelstrom thinned. The crystalline glimmer leaped into the air, and a scream of fury shook the cavern like a thunderclap. Words sharper than a viper's hiss pierced the void. Something about mortals. Something about weaklings.

A last breath on the wind... my mageling... and gloom once more shrouded the cavern.

Kendath closed his eyes against the darkness. The talon of his right hand - black, not white like the Lich's - flexed and unflexed by his side. Embers of divine fire tingled his fingers, then faded and left him with nothing more than the cold memory of sensation. The cold silence of the gods.

Do you believe?

They had asked him, and he had believed. He had thrown white fire against the Lich, and he had believed.

Do you believe?

White fire hadn't been his to throw. It had been hers. Hers. Oh, the irony. He wanted to laugh.

In response, divine fire hurled him off his feet.

Millions of silver droplets shattered like mirrors at the edge of the lake. The sun itself lanced down from the void and struck the darkness a blow that sent it reeling aside to dissipate in the corners of his vision. The cavern spun in a storm of color. Lightning blazed, and he flung out an arm to shield himself from the radiance. He just dimly registered the lightning poised above the unmoving form that was Merrin. He struggled to rise, to press against the winds pulling him back and stagger toward her.

The sun throbbed away. The storm died. The spark that hovered above her wavered for one frangible second.

It fluttered into her chest.

Upon the pale wasteland of Merrin's face, blue eyes flickered, then sparkled with the radiance of springtime.

Kendath's heart forgot how to pound.

He couldn't for the world remember when his legs started moving, but suddenly he found himself in a flat-out run. He stumbled once, scraping his knees against the stone, but his falter was merely a jolt that jarred Merrin out of his sight. After seconds that'd dragged like aeons he was kneeling beside her and taking her hands in his and pulling her to her feet. Her hands were warm - so wonderfully, vitally warm. He held them, stroking her palms, before moving his own hands up to touch her shoulders, her neck, her face. His fingers trembled on her cheeks, flushed pink like the delicate petals of roses. Warm. So warm. Warm with life.

She'd never been more beautiful.

"Merrin," he choked, but he could say no more because his heart was thudding in his throat, and tears were cooling the fever of his face, and something within him - unspoken thoughts, unutterable sensations - was bursting for expression. Motionless he stood there and held her because she was his Merrin - his sweet, beautiful Merrin who had returned from darkness to save him and who would never ever leave his side until the heavens crumbled around them.

"Merrin," he said, a gasp barely audible in the roaring silence. Nothing else could force itself out. Nothing else mattered. Only her. Only Merrin.

His arms encircled her, crushing her to him, and his lips found hers in a passionate yet infinitely tender kiss.

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That first breath was like nothing Merrin had ever experienced. It blossomed in her chest, chased back the terrible cold with such pure, life-giving vitality that she could hardly believe it. Hardly comprehend that out of the dark there was light, and out of the despair there was hope again. Hope. So fragile, so dangerous - because at any moment hope could shatter - did she dare? Did she dare hope? Dare open her eyes, dare believe...

The first thing she saw was dark, and hope shuddered so horribly that Merrin trembled. Let it be true - let her not plunge once more into the dark, let it not be torture renewed. She squeezed her eyes shut. The stone was so hard and cold beneath her, hard and cold like that kiss of death that had slithered over her cheek. She couldn't. Couldn't keep the tears, warm and wet and so real, from spilling across her face. No, no, I can't, leave me alone - it can't be real, it isn't.

Hands, cold hands, on her own. Cold like ice - cold like terror - she couldn't stop her eyes from flickering open, knowing it should be a vortex of dark hood, knowing that once more it was finished.

Dark eyes. Dark eyes in a face so wonderfully real that hope, painful hope, blossomed in her breast with such intensity that Merrin couldn't bear it. A sob choked in her throat. It couldn't be, it wasn't, hope was agony, because if she looked up one more time maybe he would be gone, and leave her to die once more in a shatter of crystal.

Through the tears she saw him. His hands on hers with heartbreaking gentleness - "No," she sobbed, unable to look, but she had no strength to pull away. His hands were moving - oh, gods, would she break if he were not so gentle - would she fall to pieces, like glass - his hands on her shoulders, on her face. Was she brave enough to say the name?

Hope stabbed, cut, slashed, and she gasped with the pain. So gentle - so gentle -

The memories were flooding back. Tears on his chest, on his armor, his arms around her like a shield that nothing could break. Warmth. Blessed, life-giving warmth.

His heartbeat, in her ears.

"Kendath," she sobbed, and she believed it. She believed it. Tremors racked her, shook her, came so close to shattering her, but nothing could break her here. Not even the dark. The dark must fall because his arms were the walls that would never crumble. Never, never, never.

Merrin would have stayed there forever. She would have listened forever to his heartbeat in her ear, and forever clung to the knowledge that he would never let go. His arms were all that prevented her from collapsing, all that held her against the storm of the world. Never let go.

She heard her name. Her name, like she'd thought she would never hear it again.

Her face was upturned, and this time she was not afraid to look at him, to stare forever at the lines of his face, so close. He was crying. She wanted to reach up and wipe away the tears, but her arms were pinioned by her sides, and if he let go ever so slightly she would fall. Was it the salt of her tears that she tasted, or his?

That was her last thought. Then warmth swept through her gloriously, because his lips were touching hers, and took with it everything but incandescent joy. That kiss lasted for eternity, but eternity was not long enough. Her knees threatened to give way, but somehow Merrin could wrap her arms around his neck and make eternity last longer.

When it ended, she let her head fall against his chest. The world spun, all the world except for him, because he was the only one who mattered. "Kendath," she said wonderingly with a voice that shook like the rest of her, saying his name and hearing the universe.

Green. She saw stabbing green beyond the circle of his arms, and her grip around his neck tightened in a wordless plea. The dark that had overwhelmed. The Lich. May the light of the gods die with you. Cold, cold against her cheek, and the numbness of despair. The void of betrayal. Merrin's tears blurred green with black. "I was dead," she said. "Kendath, I couldn't - I couldn't do it - ah, gods, and it hurt -"

She buried her head against him and cried.

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She was real. Kendath knew this because nothing had ever looked so delicate, and nothing had ever felt as tangible as her trembling form in his arms. The honey of her lips lingered on his. The softness of her body filled him with an aching need to press her closer, to meld them so tightly that neither space nor time could pull them apart.

"Shh, Merrin. You're safe. You're all right now." And his words shook because she really was all right. Everything was all right. He'd dared to dream, and this time it wasn't her cold husk against his face but her - his Merrin, breathing and whispering his name with a tenderness that stabbed straight into his heart. He loved the way she spoke his name. He loved the way those two syllables blew shivers across his skin, and he loved the clear windchimes of her voice. Her voice was music he thought he'd never hear again.

Sobs racked her. She seemed so small, so frangible, like a child lost in the dark. He pressed her head against his chest and stroked the gentle waves of her hair, glowing copper in the dim light. Tears soaked the thin fabric of his shirt. Why was she crying? She couldn't cry - not now, not when the Lich was gone and the gods had spoken and she was alive.

Merrin was alive.

Kendath heard himself laugh. He heard the joy bubble in his throat and escape his mouth in great peals that burned his lungs. He laughed for the sake of hearing himself laugh, and it wasn't laughter born of irony or insanity but of pure, bursting exhilaration. When at last the laughter abated enough to let him speak, his words spilled forth like water over a dam. What was he saying? What had he to say? He didn't know, but he couldn't stop talking - couldn't stop making her listen so she wouldn't have enough thought left over to cry.

"It's all right. I'm here. I'm here. I know it hurt - gods, it hurt - but you don't have to worry anymore because it's over now. He's gone. The Lich is gone. It's over." Somewhere amid his blabbering, he managed to find her chin and tilt it up. Their gazes locked. He traced a finger over her lips. "Smile, Merrin. Please. I want to see you smile again."

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He was so real and solid, so reassuringly warm against her that Merrin could not press close enough. Still she was afraid that he would disappear, even with his heartbeat pounding in her ear, even with the tingling remembrance of his lips on hers. If her arms had not been locked, choke-tight, around his neck, she would have touched wondering fingers to her lips. Her own heartbeat was fluttering wildly in her ears.

Too exhausted to sob any longer, she blinked against the unending storm of tears. Her gulps for air made the world beyond his arms spin dizzyingly. His hands on her hair somehow blurred her vision with more tears - because he could not let go. She would cling to him forever if she must, but to loose her hold was to risk losing him, and she could not. Not again.

With a strange sense of awe, she was quiet to hear his joy, vibrating in her ears. She could breathe again - stand there shielded by his arms and know the wonder of her chest rising and falling, the miracle of hearing her own heartbeat synchronous with his. The sound of it, the sound of alien happiness echoing in the empty chamber, was incredible. Merrin struggled to believe it. Really? she wanted to ask, silently. Promise me it's true, promise me it won't all disappear. Promise me that the moment I smile...

Then he was speaking, and she wanted to capture the words forever. With his every heartbeat she pressed closer, aching to hear every tiny inflection of his voice. The warm breath of his words on her hair sent a shiver racing down her spine.

Smile, Merrin. Please.

She blinked back the tears. The look in his eyes begged her for the faintest ghost of a grin. "I can't," she whispered. "I can't - I'm scared -"

Merrin could see the tears still on his cheeks. She dared to loose her hold enough to raise trembling fingers and wipe them away, even as her own fell. Her hand ended hovering over his lips, still shaking, and she let loose a shuddering breath. I want to see you smile again.

Promise me... but the remembrance of his lips over hers was promise enough. She stared up at him. When she was brave enough to dare a shaky smile, the world held firm. Not even a tremor, beyond her own uncontrollable quivering. Merrin was brave enough to pull his head down, close enough for her to kiss him just once more.

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Adeila knew that she had to work swiftly. The wound in Garthag's shoulder was deep and losing blood far too rapidly for her comfort. She knelt beside the mage, trying to determine the extent of the damage. No vital organs had been struck, miraculously, but it was still rather serious - especially taking into account the myriad other injuries he had already sustained in battle against the Shadower Lord.

She had neither the time nor the energy to fully heal the wound at the present, but something obviously had to be done. Blood loss was her greatest concern, so she focused on that first. Unfortunately, there were few proper bandages readily at hand, her pack having somehow failed to make it through the portal with them. None of their garments were clean enough to tear into makeshift bandages, either, without risking subsequent infection. She would simply have to make do with what she had.

"You are fortunate," Adeila commented as she uncorked the flask that hung from her belt, "that my salves and bandages do, in fact, serve a purpose from time to time. I need for you to sit up. This will be unpleasant." She helped Garthag into half-sitting position, using the base of the pedestal to support him. After pulling back the stained fabric from around the wound, she emptied the contents of the flask over it, cleaning it out. Focusing on the blood coming from the wound, she tried to stem its flow - not enough to entirely close off circulation, but enough to keep it from escaping quite so easily. Then she took the only clean bandage that she did have and began to wrap it tightly around the mage's shoulder.

Even as she worked, the chamber was suddenly flooded with light. The light flowed, twisted, coalesced around a single form. Merrin. The gods do not forsake their own.

On the distant shore of the lake, Adeila could just make out faint forms, but she made no attempt to look more closely. Even had she been able to see much, they had earned a moment of privacy. Turning her attention back to her work, she tied off the bandage and slowly helped Garthag to his feet.

"I will examine the wound more extensively at another time," she promised. "At the present, I think we had best locate Merrin and Kendath and leave this place as quickly as possible."

Kendath lingered, breathing in the sweetness of her, long after their lips had parted. His hand absently touched his cheek, which still burned where her fingers had brushed it. He smiled at the sight of her smile.

Just as he finally drew back, the cavern shuddered with a tremor that grated against the walls. Dust showered down from the blackness above. Water overflowed the lake and sloshed around their boots. From somewhere underneath their feet vibrated a rumble so deep that it seemed as though the very foundations of the Citadel were cracking apart.

It didn't take much thought to conclude that this was, perhaps, exactly what was happening.

"We're getting out of here," he said, pulling Merrin aside as another spray of debris came raining down from gods knew where. He gently unlocked her arms from around his neck and clasped her hand in his. The two halves of his falchion gleamed just a few paces away. He considered retrieving them, but another tremor shook the cavern. That is, the subterranean cavern. The hole trapped beneath a thousand tons of unforgiving rock.

Dear gods.

"This way!" Leading Merrin by the hand, he launched into a run back along the shoreline, toward where he'd last left Adeila with the undead horde.

Seconds flew by in a blur hindered only by the rumbles beneath their feet. The column of green flared first white, then black, then every other color imaginable, tossing a fantastic spectrum of shadows across their path. Dust scattered the light into a veil that hung in shimmering folds before their vision. Through the haze stinging his eyes Kendath could faintly discern a break in the shoreline. Closer inspection revealed it to be a silver bridge that arced over the churning waters - no doubt the bridge that Garthag had conjured to reach the center of the lake. He recalled glimpsing the white-robed figure fall. The mage might need help.

At the head of the bridge he turned back to Merrin with a pang of guilt. He couldn't read her expression in the dimness, but nevertheless she looked none too steady on her feet. He grasped her shoulders. "Will you be okay?"

_________________

There was an absolute stillness, a calm in his eyes as he stared out into the darkness, that enveloped everything far above them. Even as Adeila arrived to aid him with his, somewhat severe, wound he did not seem to care all tough co-operated with her instructions to the best of his ability. The shift was uncomfortable and it managed to wake him up from his enchanted state as he stared at Adeila quietly, pondering whether she thought he was human or not.

It was quite possible that Adeila, from the kindness of her heart, might have aided even a wounded monster yet as the large boulders came crushing down from the darkness of the cavern Garthag discarded such thoughts at once. The shackles of his wounds made his current state light-headed, mostly due to the amount of blood missing, but he hardly might have noticed it after all that had come to pass. Slowly and shaking, he managed to stumbled up with the help of Adeila yet stagnantly refused to admit his own weakness, still.

"I`m fine... the shard, we can`t leave empty-handed"

He said whilst barely remaining standing and that was all due to the support granted by Adeila`s brittle shoulder, but as a clear headed as he had ever been Garthag thought about the objective. It was true, that he had allowed ultimate power slip away and the shard had been the key, but it also remained as a goal for the chosen thus they might as well carry it to her.

In his dizzy state he had not even realized, that two figures had been approaching the bridge, created by his own `hand`, and made an effort to recognize the two amongst the haze clouding his vision. The one approaching first was Kendath, indeed he had suspected, that the wily assassins had been able to endure his encounter with the Lich. However Garthag was a little taken back once he realized it was Merrin accompanying Kendath along the bridge.

Either they had all already moved beyond or she had come back to life, and the excruciating pain served as a reminder, that he was still very much alive. Apparently the gods had even blessed Merrin with a second chance and Garthag could not, but feel a sting of envy piercing his own heart at that moment.

The world was unfair and the gods cruel.

Yet he did not remain within the grasp of his bitter thoughts for long as he began to make his way to meet the two, with Adeila`s substantial aid of course. As they drew closer he simply smirked, almost chuckled, at them as, if to answer about his current condition of health.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Blindly, Merrin reached for him. She didn't know whether the spasms of shadow, tinted every conceivable color, flashed dizzyingly before her eyes, or whether her vision swam with black splotches. The floor tilted, righted itself, trembled and shook with as though the world itself was collapsing. For the barest moment irrational panic swept through her - it had to be real, it must be! - but Kendath's hand was reassuringly warm and solid, enough to chase away the specters of hideous memory.

She nodded, gasping, steadied by his hands. "Yes - yes - don't leave, I want to stay with you -"

A thunderous roar from above, and a crack, and she could glimpse Adeila and Garthag halfway along the bridge. Rubble rained from the ceiling and the dust of it choked in her throat. Merrin twisted, looking wildly for a tunnel. "Go, we need to go!"

_________________

The white-robed figure and the shorter figure a small ways behind were sprinting across the bridge. As they neared, Kendath's glance jumped from Garthag's smirk to the weariness lining Adeila's brow. A glimmer of glass flashed in the healer's grip. The Shard was safe.

Another tremor rocked the cavern. Water drenched his boots, and Kendath leaped back to see the tiniest cracks split the stone beneath his feet. The floor lurched, spilling murky tentacles of the lake onto the shore.

He seized Merrin's hand and threw himself into a run.

They escaped the cavern intact. By luck or divine intervention or both, the four of them had managed to duck around gales of debris and hurtle over fissures splitting the ground. The race all the way back to the other end of the cavern had seemed longer - nightmarish - with dust biting their eyes and the world tipping, blazing with light and shadow, around them. One misstep - one dodge in the wrong direction - could have shoved them into the foaming lake or hammered a boulder on their skulls. And yet...

The dark tunnel beyond found all four of them panting, staggering, cursing, and very visibly alive.

Kendath wasn't sure what happened next.

Stone, rumbling at their backs like a beast growling its hunger, drove them on. Adeila had taken the lead, the Celestial Shard thrust high out in front of her. The Shard's facets tossed crystalline reflections that burst against the dark confines and chased back the shadows. The basalt walls blurred past them in flashes of silver and black, and as the rumbles escalated to a shuddering crescendo, they broke into the central vein of the labyrinth. Left or right? Kendath faltered before abruptly, as though by tacit consent, they all veered left.

The spiraling gloom of the staircase beckoned them on.

There was something about this escape - a strange elation that spiked his nerves and pounded the blood through his veins with simmering intoxication. His breath seared his lungs. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Merrin's hand was warm in his, and as he glanced at her over his shoulder, as his boots struck the steps two at a time with rhythmic efficiency, he'd never felt more invigorated. He'd never felt more invincible, more alive.

It was over. Everything was going to be all right. Nothing could stop them now.

Iron gates clanged. Ahead of them, a starless night mantled a cold courtyard. Behind them, the central tower of the Shadowers' Citadel convulsed with one last shudder. Then it crumbled, collapsing in on itself in stifled silence, without even a whisper to betray its fall. One by one, the five surrounding towers swayed, then mirrored its defeat.

Night stretched on forever. Ocean curled noiselessly around the pedestal of rock that had once boasted the bastion of the Shadowers' power. The silence was eternal, broken only by the muffled gasps of the four companions. The four survivors.

Kendath didn't relinquish his hold on Merrin. With his other hand, the blackened talon that had destroyed the Lich, he drew forth his jade figurine. The twin specks of emerald winked at him, and he felt himself smiling in return.

At last. At long last. It was over.

_________________

Her boots pounding. Kendath's hand, clutching hers. That was all that existed, all that was real in the frenzied rush to escape the crumbling citadel. Crumbling. Somewhere in the back of Merrin's mind, victory cried its triumph. Somewhere, exultation warred with distress - die, Merrin Dragonrider - because the walls were collapsing, the bastion of evil was defeated, the Shard rested safe in Adeila's hand, but it had not been Merrin. Merrin, the Chosen of the Gods, had failed.

By the time they stood in a courtyard once ringed with the silent, forbidding lairs of shadows, there was no room for an inner war. Distress and victory both faded in the hammering of her heart and the desperate need for flight and the struggle to put one foot in front of the other, up and up and up while rocky teeth roared at their backs and the threat of a million tons of rock was a hairsbreadth behind - Merrin could think of nothing else, past the times she stumbled to cling to his hand like a lifeline, surviving purely on frantic adrenaline.

Now her fingers were rigid, locked around Kendath's, and over the monochrome of dark sky and dark water, dizzy splotches of color swam before her eyes. Merrin blinked, gulped a breath of air that hurt her throat, was dimly conscious of the violent thrashing of her heart and the screaming of her muscles at the strain.

Green, color in the void, glinted in Kendath's grasp, and her mind struggled to grasp what she must do next. Wyvern, said a memory that fought to break the surface, and she only had to turn, mute, to Adeila, to find the tiny figurine in her hand. "Wyvern," she whispered, swaying, hardly knowing what it was that passed her lips.

The thunderclap that followed nearly sent her reeling. A whirlwind, a raging cyclone of dragon, plunged from the oblivion of sky with a roar that would have deafened her if it had not been muted by silence, by Wyvern's insubstantiality. You were dead, said a voice dimly. He thought you were dead.

"I'm here," she whispered, at the raw wild terror in those brilliant eyes. "I'm here, Wyvern." She thought she could feel his breath, the sparks hovering there. The emotion emanating from that silver shape was overwhelming. She reached for the straps that held the flight saddle, the only part of him that she could touch. "I'm sorry, Wyvern, I'm sorry, I'm here - I'm sorry -"

Climb into the saddle? She could have laughed. It might as well have been a mountain. She felt his insistence and gripped harder, tried to will herself into it.

A silent moment. Merrin swallowed. "Kendath," she managed, hardly over a whisper, "I think I need help."

_________________

Gyre waited for him, the fine membrane of her wings shimmering the darkness, but at Merrin's voice Kendath snapped his attention back to the silver glory that was Wyvern, curled protectively around his rider.

Kendath hesitated, then released her hand and dropped to one knee. He steadied her, lightly guiding her by the waist, as she stepped onto his knee and hoisted herself up. His hand lingered by her ankle. "Can you ride?"

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