Lena
I'm buried and covered peaceful under millions of stars

Constant darkness reminded Lena of many things bending amongst the shadows, sorrow, misery, tribulations dragging across distorted, well-meaning schemes, where to pluck their beloved ones from harm, they had to enact their own, and even then, the clouds had scattered over their hearts. Failure was a poison flickering and lapping between ardent veins, venomous, grasping, toying, an altar to disaster, defeat and collapse. For one moment, a minute feeling of elation, pressing tenderly along an intertwining caress, the thought, the sensation, of triumph dancing, conquest blooming, only for seconds thereafter to consume, searing, simmering, smoldering, the gloom of pestilence. A sickening series of events, unwinding in their passionate displays, in their emboldened sketches, in their streamlined determination, united, collided, and fettered away to nothing. The songbird wondered if they were destined for the endless cycle of perseverance, persistence, and tenacity, only to falter, bend and break into the eternal debacle of ruin. A second somber scene, the first painted amongst a bramble of tundra and glaciers, and now the current tapestry and canvas followed, stripping the grandeur of their pursuits into an empty palm, bereft of companions once absconded. What of the children and their mother now, still locked, still chained, still guarded and secure along the intertwining edges of forest and mist? Were they to be the forsaken devils? Were they to be robbed of their innocence, their whims and fancies, forever encrusted in twilight oubliettes? The queries hovered in the nymph’s mind, a worthy distraction to the pricking, lacerating calculations still roaming over her membrane, rancorous, bitter, distracting. She struggled not to ruminate over the echoes of her own catastrophe, the tangled fortitudes and machinations unraveling beneath her precious, gentle exterior, tainted days crushing the careful, composed visage she’d cherished, absorbed, and displayed. These passing, idle, snippets of time would be diligently composed for assuaging, mitigating the harm exposed and covered over the hides of her gallant, brave, courageous brethren.

She ignored her own pain, the aches bursting against her muscles, concentrated on the feeble breaths of her companion resting along her haunches. Imogen had awakened briefly on their return from the cliffs, copses and groves, once a home, once a sanctuary, leaving with more morose sentiments for a land she’d trusted and loved, to deliver a brief message before falling into unconsciousness again. Sorry. When the apology had crossed over her membrane, the sylph had thought to collapse on her knees and beg forgiveness, to offer each and every benediction she’d promised to the earth, wind, and sky, for salvation to be restored and no dwelling dusk to batter over their valorous ones again. She’d asked for assistance in battle, blinded by the thought of victory, the clutching of a pilfered mother and her children, and Imogen had delivered, together, turning into the fire ignited in her essence, the savagery kindled in her soul. But instead of falling to the ground, she pressed on, forever resolved and resolute, carried her cherished kitsune along her rump, bore the weight of her injuries, her selfishness, and the world across her shoulders, slowly twisting her movements towards the mountains, high peaks extending their arms to her withering patriots.

Lena had promised to heal, to mend, to assuage the tender wounds her friends sustained and shouldered, felt songs in her heart, somehow untarnished, somehow impeccable, somehow pristine, to chant into fanciful arias, to stitch back seams of bitterness and forget her own. And as she traced the inner sanctum of the icicle borders, with the swelling joy of spring pressed against her, she raised her head to utter one vivid hymn, requesting the presence of those requiring her services. Though tired, though tormented, she’d gladly erase the gloom, the terror, the misery, of others from their wayward souls, from their entities and enigmas, to chase away the afflictions and anguish valiant efforts caused and enacted.

[For anyone who needs healing after the Edge/Throat battles.]