yael

In a flash of light and unraveling magic, her world came to a shattering, sudden stop; her heart, his eyes, a backlash that sent her mind and body reeling through either time and space or just a couple of dimensions or maybe she’s just too dumb and old to figure it out now. The stars… the stars… Weaver walked… and it’s all just beyond her grasp.

And what did Kaos say? Whether or not he was intentionally misleading isn’t the point anymore, the point is that his points had grains of truth to them. Yael held the world in her mind before Helovia. Here, the Gods took and gave according to their fancies, be they whimsical or cruel. They took the Rift lands, they took lives (yes, she remembers hearing about the Moon Goddess and how she killed and killed and killed), and still they love them. Worse than her vengeful god, sometimes, and worse still, are her inconsistent, fluttering opinions on the matter. Why had the Goddess seen her as an appropriate replacement for Isopia, why had Kaos written in Hebrew? All the whys echo and none can offer any answer.

It’s a cacophony inside her head. But at least she isn’t numb and trembling, at least she isn’t paralyzed in fear. Some sort of pity wells up in her for Amaris, for the pain she so clearly feels and the dependency she seems to have on ones who would so willingly leave (call her a scorned woman, perhaps, but anger comes far more easily than depression now) their charges to whatever fresh hell might come their way, knowing that they are looked to for guidance. She wants to shake the other mare, to turn dragon and find the fire that burns within the champagne’s breast – it’s in there, somewhere, Yael’s seen it. She wants the gold King to sear the sorrow out of his bonded, but even she knows that’s not how the link works.

Instead, she makes a scornful little sound in the back of her throat, glancing down at the dark ground and exhaling heavily.”Tch! You are more zan ze Gods. You are part dragon,” she says pointedly to Amaris, and then to Mauja, “and you are eemortal, yes? Resilee-ent. Part of a beeger xole. And t’ere are ozers xoo vill need you.” When all is said and done, what will they say about the Frozen Light? About the daughter of Mirage? The little golden Seer feels anger welling in her chest and tries to squash it, trying to find that that light and line between encouraging and being a tough mother. Will they say that they let Edgers suffer and die? That they wallowed in their own sorrow and fear? Or will they say that they stood together and faced down whatever Fate threw at them?

“I am sorree,” she murmurs after a moment, “Eef I seem xarsh.” They could ignore her if they wished, and she would leave. Sometimes it is better to let mourners come to their own senses, in their own time. But she does not think that they have much time left.