Summary

A battle-worn Mirana crosses paths with a stranger from another world. She wishes she had more time to know him.

Disclaimer:

I do not own the characters.

Mirana and Dota 2 are property of Valve

Estes and Mobile Legends are property of Moonton.

The Princess's Discontent

Mirana fought against the pull of the Black Hole with all her might. Her allies, too, couldn't escape, thrashing and flailing with their mouths open in silent screams. All in vain against the Enigma's devastating cosmic whirlpool, its force like that of a thousand invisible claws grabbing her and crushing the breath from her lungs. In her desperation she clung on to Sagan, but was soon unable to feel the soft fur and warmth of her beloved white tiger.

A rib broke, piercing her like a silent knife. Then another rib broke, and another.

Her broken bones began to splinter, and then the pain was and fear of imminent death was engulfed by numbness. A black hole is really a collapsed star, to die in its embrace would be what Selemene has planned for me. A prayer to her goddess was the last thing she managed before she succumbed allowing herself to be sucked into the darkness, like grime into a sewer.

Next came a dizzying journey of being whisked through a vacuum of spacetime, tumbling into a void of nothingness...

...and finally careening into a web of universes. The remaining light of her consciousness dimmed and fizzled out.

When she awoke, she had no idea how much time had lapsed. Seconds? Hours? Days? Struggling to lift her heavy eyelids, she became vaguely aware that she was lying on the ground on her side. It took a while for her senses to rekindle.

This being her third death on the battlefield, she thought she knew what to expect. Her soul was supposed to reappear at the Radiant fountain, hovering above it while waiting for her battered body to materialize and mend itself. Once her corporeal self was whole, soul and body would reunite, and she would stand and fight again. Her trusty Sagan, of course, would be there for her, and they would ride once more, fearlessly into the fray.

But this time was different.

Instead of the lush, moist grass of the Radiant base, her body was resting on something hard, smooth and slightly cold.

Next came the pain, firing up all her nerves. Body and soul were one, but the injuries she had previously suffered, remained. Moving her left arm was excruciating; the elbow was swollen and twisted at a weird angle, most likely fractured after the fall she had suffered from the Invoker's tornado.

A searing trail in her right leg drew a hiss; blood was still oozing below the knee from a wicked gash, the skin and muscle sliced apart when Pudge's hook had plunged in. Each attempt at drawing air drove a dagger through her lungs, and she remembered her ribs had been broken by the force of the Black Hole.

Apart from her own labored breaths, it was unnaturally quiet. No comforting bubbling sounds of the Radiant fountain. Her ears rang with the eerie silence. The air was motionless, as if time itself had stopped.

She rolled over to her left and was stopped by a hard surface. And then she noticed that the ground was moving. Wait, no - it was actually what was underneath that was moving. The ground she was lying on, she realized, was transparent, and below it was something that looked like jet black, swirling water. The wall closing her in was made of the same glass-like material.

Stars in heaven, where is this place? How did I get here?

Gritting her teeth, she managed, with great difficulty, to prop herself up into a sitting position against the transparent barrier, which she realized was only about three feet high. Now she could see her surroundings better. Peering beyond the low glass wall, she saw nothing but a sea of pitch black, extending endlessly into the misty distance, the fog drifting like listless wisps. A sense of vertigo overwhelmed her.

She wished fervently that she was back at in base, or on the battlefield, anywhere but here. A simple teleport scroll could have made it possible but her pockets were empty save for some gold pieces. She was completely alone, without her belongings, her bow and arrows, without -

"Sagan," she whispered, scanning her surroundings frantically. Her faithful companion was nowhere in sight, and she was too weak to call for him. Dread coiled around her stomach. Sagan could be waiting in base. He would be lost without her, and she, in her current condition, couldn't travel anywhere without her mount.

Lifting her eyes to the night sky, she was greeted by a sprinkling of stars and the round moon, veiled by a translucent curtain of clouds. She felt a trickle of relief. Finally, something familiar!

But right next to the moon was… a second lunar disc, moving over so close they were almost touching. Hello, friend, it seemed to say.

Twin moons... she gaped in astonishment. She'd never seen this phenomenon in her entire life. What did this mean?

"Selemene, guide me," she beseeched the bizarre sky. "Let me be either dead or alive, not stranded in this limbo!"

Only emptiness answered her. As she lay waiting, the agonizing seconds stretched to minutes. Still no sign of life or help. Mirana slumped down, her chestnut tresses cascading messily over her face. This could only be a nightmare, spat out by the Black Hole and abandoned in a desolate nowhere land to wither away alone. But the pain was so real, ripping through the feeling of unreality and she wanted it to stop. She was alive and yet not alive. Would dying here send her back to the Radiant fountain? She lacked the strength to even hurl herself over the barrier into the abyss.

Her hand touched a rod-like object next to her. It was an observer ward that had rolled out of her pocket.

So she had something of use after all. Her fingers grasped the ward - maybe if she planted it here, her allies would be able to see where she was and come to her aid. She tried to position the ward upright on the floor, but the smooth surface made it difficult, and she was so weak that the simple implement felt heavy in her hand. She gave up and let it fall with a thud.

Her eyes fluttered shut as thoughts swam into her mind, disorganized threads of thoughts, recollections and images that entered the mind of one on the brink of death.

The war had gone on for too long. What had been achieved so far? She was tired. Tired of all the bloodshed, the hunting, the ambushing, the scheming, the betrayals, the infighting among her allies.

But it had been her choice, to follow the path of a warrior. Hadn't it? After all, she had given up the sheltered life of a princess for this.

Discontent was her middle name, she supposed.

"She's a free spirit," her governess told her parents. The lady was one of the string of tutors she had driven away with her wilful lack of interest in all her lessons save for archery. Her maidservants, too, were exasperated with her tendency to disappear from the palace at whim.

Her parents, Queen Marion and King Micah, had been crushed when their only child, next in line to the Solar Throne had refused to take on the role. However, they loved her and did not want to force her into a life that would make her unhappy. They gradually came to terms with their disappointment, but drew the line at showing their support for her beliefs.

"She's a stubborn one."

She had taken everything for granted. Her life of luxury, her education, her parents' indulgence. A life that most of the world could only dream of. This, she realized only after going down the path of a warrior.

It all started when she was accompanying her mother for a visit to the Temple of the Moon. As a patron of the temple, the queen's involvement was limited to donations and offerings. But never, ever had she expected her daughter to abandon her family in complete devotion to the Moon.

For Mirana it had been a life-changing visit.

She stood awestruck before the statue of Selemene, made of gold, silver and ivory. For a long time she lingered inside the inner chamber of the temple, refusing to go back with the royal entourage. She couldn't take her eyes off the magnificent sculpture of the Moon Goddess driving her chariot drawn by two horses, her head surmounted by a crescent, her long wings spreading out and cloak billowing behind her.

Inside her, the seed of discontent grew some more. "Please, Goddess," she had pleaded. "Tell me what to do. I don't want to be the ruler of my kingdom. Tell me my life's purpose, Goddess."

"Her name is Selemene," a rough, slightly disdainful voice cut through the quiet of the chamber.

Mirana whipped around, and saw a young woman around her age, eighteen or so. She had a lean-muscled build, wild violet eyes and angular features. She walked, or glided over like a panther, her dark ponytail swishing behind her.

"Up for a challenge, Princess?" the girl smirked at Mirana's fair and soft features. "Prove your worth to Selemene, and we'll see."

Mirana nodded eagerly. She was so naïve, so uninitiated then. She knew nothing about the moon that she was so drawn to.

"Follow me."

It was the first time Mirana ever followed any stranger, but that fateful day, she stole off with Luna into the Nightsilver Woods, and never looked back.

A white tiger was a symbol of power, freedom and individuality.

Concentrating hard, she released her bowstring and her arrow flew into the poacher who was hunting the rare beast. The majestic, cream-colored feline turned towards her, and Mirana stood firm, returning it an unfaltering gaze.

"Be careful," warned Luna with glaives at the ready. Though rescued by a human, a wild tiger was still a fearsome predator able to crush the life out of her with its razor-sharp claws and great canines. Yet, Mirana felt little fear. She saw herself in its turquoise eyes.

"Sagan, you are mine," she said. The great beast crouched down and she slowly lowered her bow. They both had no wish to hurt each other. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Luna's skeptical scowl. Mirana smiled triumphantly – she had passed the test.

Another scene flooded into her mind…

Kneeling before the shrine of Selemene in the Nightsilver Woods. Surrounding the pavilion was a pond scattered with pink and white lotus flowers, one of them adorning her hair. Offering her bow to be imbued with the moon's energy. The pact was made, with Luna as the witness. Mirana was given her powers, and in return, she would be the Protector of the sacred lotuses.

She began to alienate herself from the palace, making the Woods her second home.

And then came the War of the Ancients. A war that raged on continuously, dragging in every conceivable creature from various lands. She had joined it - she had no choice, as the war's outcome had implications on the sancity of the Nightsilver Woods. The war had initially brought her new excitement and glory, elevating her from Protector of the Woods to Defender of the Ancients.

But right now, she was just tired.

She drifted out of her reverie. With a sigh, she realized she was still trapped in this desolate limbo.

This place was the wrong place to be in. No, she was not supposed to be here. The thought of being stuck here forever - she didn't want to think about it. She wanted out.

Indeed, she had taken everything for granted. Her former, sheltered life at the palace. Her special abilities bestowed by her deity, her loyal mount and her weapons, which had become an extension of herself. Even breathing easily was something she had taken for granted.

"Selemene," she implored the sky. "Help me… just once more. I promise… whatever you bestow on me…I will thankfully accept … and be… content."

Now, there was only a single moon hovering above her. Weren't there two of them just now? Maybe they had merged into one, or maybe she had been hallucinating. The luminous eye watched over her in detachment.

She closed her eyes, surrendering herself to fate.

The sound of footsteps made her eyes snap open. Someone emerged from the fog ahead. Had her prayers been answered? An imposing figure strode towards her, resplendent cloak flowing behind him. His boots struck the bridge in a purposeful, steady gait.

But it wasn't someone friendly. It was the Invoker.

She forced her head up to look at her foe. He looked wrong, too. Beyond the elfin features, long silver hair and elaborate gold-trimmed attire, there was just something different about him. Perhaps it was the absence of the three colorful orbs usually circling him. Perhaps it was his demeanor, entirely lacking in hostility. He merely stood eyeing her in a curious sort of way.

Feeling self-conscious, Mirana tried to climb to her feet, but failed and slipped back down. Her chest heaved with pain and exhaustion, her humiliation grew with every second of the enemy mage's scrutiny.

"Not finishing me off?" she said wryly. She was aware of her complete helplessness, without an ounce of energy left for Moonlight Shadow. An easy kill for him, and he had ten different ways to do so.

The elf's pearlescent eyes held the usual cold aloofness, but his voice… came out different. His voice was a soothing tenor instead of a booming baritone. The words washed over her, clear and gentle as the moonlight, yet with a distinct ring of authority.

"I do not know who you are, and have no wish to hurt you."

Mirana frowned. What's all this nonsense? Was the Invoker drunk, or had he gone mad? Perhaps… dread crawled up her spine… he meant to toy with her, wear her down with insults and what-not before he finished her off. After all, he had eternity. And then she noticed, in puzzlement, that there was a large book tucked under his arm. A book? What in the high heavens was going on in that crafty mind of his?

He took a few steps closer, his white shoulder-length locks stirring in the breeze. The ground actually swayed a little, and she remembered it was made of fragile glass, but at the moment it seemed to holding their combined weight pretty well.

"What do you want?" Mirana tried to sound forbidding, but her voice came out small and quivering. She was too used to being perched tall and proud on Sagan, staring down her foes, sending arrows into their hearts and pelting the stars down on them. It was difficult to appear fierce like this, crumpled on the ground like a rag doll.

The mage paused and surveyed her with a tilt of his head.

"You are badly injured," he remarked. His tone was not mocking as it was supposed to be. It was detached, as if he'd seen what he was seeing a thousand times, and yet there was a sliver of kindness in it.

"And so?" Mirana huffed in shallow breaths. "Stop playing games. Just kill me… and be done with it."

"I have no quarrel with you," the elf reiterated, his expression holding neither lust nor cruelty. He kept quiet for a while, standing still like an ivory statue.

Mirana glared at him, pain clouding her vision.

The statue moved and became human again. The pupil-less eyes flared with something that looked like concern. "Please, allow me to look at your wounds," he said. "I assure you that I have no ill intentions. I swear this upon the Goddess of the Moon."

Mirana's jaw dropped in outrage. "Do not… take my goddess's name in vain!" Her sentence trailed off in a weak series of coughs that wracked her lungs.

The elf raised his brows ever so slightly. And then he nodded, as though affirming his own thoughts. "Indeed, I sense your affinity to the celestial," he observed. And then he added, perceptively. "As well as your highborn status."

She frowned. This stranger was most definitely not the Invoker. He was neither an enemy, nor an ally. So who in the world was he? And how had he managed to identify her background?

"My name is Mirana," she declared with all the dignity she could muster. She left out the princess bit, as she was no longer one. Only her allies insisted on calling her Princess, and her enemies did so out of sarcasm.

The elf acknowledged with a dip of his head, and then closed the remaining distance between them. As if realizing how much he towered over her, he bent down on one knee, meeting her at eye level.

"Pardon me," his voice was like a lute, melodious and pleasant. "I have forgotten to introduce myself. My name is Estes. I, too, am a servant of the Moon."

"Estes?" she echoed, just to be sure she'd heard correctly. At this proximity, she was able to sense the lunar aura pulsing around him. This was a moon elf she was talking to. She knew about this race, had heard stories and legends about them, but never in her life had she expected to come across one.

"Where did you come from?" Mirana inquired, her voice barely audible. Estes was no ordinary moon elf, it was obvious. He seemed humble and hadn't attached any titles to his name, but he didn't look like a commoner. There was an unmistakable regal air about him.

"We will talk after I have taken care of this," he said firmly but patiently, lowering his gaze to her wounded leg. A small puddle of blood had pooled below it. Also, splattered on her fur-trimmed cobalt dress were droplets of crimson. She realized, with a grimace, that she had been coughing out blood.

But none of this perturbed Estes. First, he transferred his gold-gilded tome to one hand; its cover was of the same sapphire hue as the satin robes he wore. She wondered what was written inside.

Next, he murmured something unintelligible to the sky, as if drawing inspiration from the moon. The large crescent embossed on the book began to glow a bright cerulean. His hand hovered a couple inches over the gash below her knee. She tensed involuntarily.

"Please relax. I will not touch you," he assured.

And then his fingers began to glow. Mirana's breath caught. The lunar aura that radiated from him was so pure and powerful that she wondered, for a moment, if she was in the presence of Selemene herself. Icy-blue light flowed from his hands, soothing her leg like a cool, salving river. She watched in amazement as layers of skin, muscle and tissue mended. Her pain evaporated, the wound closed itself up and her skin was smooth and intact once again.

They spoke at the same time, and she let him.

"May I?" he asked, those ivory irises giving no indication of what he was asking permission for. And then she remembered that she had internal injuries, which probably required him to make physical contact.

"Go ahead," she said.

In the same sure and steady manner, he laid his hand on her chest, just below her collarbone where her crescent pendant sat. Something indescribably comforting flowed into her, filling her whole being as he worked his divine magic, repairing the punctured lung and broken ribs in less than a minute.

For a split second Mirana imagined herself back at the Nightsilver Shrine, immersed in Selemene's blessings. Feeling her strength returning, she inhaled deeply, amazed that she could now draw in air effortlessly. She tried to push herself up so that she could thank him properly. But she'd forgotten about her fractured arm and the attempt made her cry out in pain.

"Don't move," Estes said. Turning his attention to the affected elbow, he performed the same ministrations, bathing it in the moon's luminescence, restoring shattered bone and torn cartilage.

The light allowed her to see his face clearly. He was androgynously beautiful, but looked nothing like the Invoker – she had been mistaken. His features, like his voice, were softer, with a slender jaw and an overall childlike quality. But she knew that elves did not age physically, although she'd heard there were subtle signs of age, such as the length of their upswept ears. She wanted to touch the silver hair that flowed down his chest to feel if it was as soft as it looked.

Stop gawking! She ordered herself. And then she realized he had been saying something which she had missed.

"Yes?" she looked up, willing the warmth in her cheeks to go away.

"Try moving your arm now."

She did, and it felt like new. Mirana almost wept with joy. Her body no longer weighed like a sack of broken bricks; she was strong and whole again. Feeling a little dazed, she parted her lips but couldn't form anything.

Speak, you silly girl. Say something!

"Thank you, Estes," she finally said. "I am most grateful for your act of kindness, but I do not know how to repay you." She bit her lip regretfully; there was nothing she could offer him. Her powers were for hunting, killing and escaping. Her bow was her most prized possession, but she didn't have it with her. Giving him gold pieces would be an insult to him, she was sure.

He smiled graciously, though he looked visibly drained from expending all that energy to heal her. "It is my honor to render assistance to a fellow follower of the Moon," he said, and gathered his manual. He looked ready to leave.

"Wait," Mirana touched his arm. "Do you know where we are?" She felt embarrassed about disturbing him again; she never liked relying on anyone excessively, but she was truly lost.

"I am trying to figure this out myself," he replied apologetically, scanning the surroundings. "I awoke in one corner of this..." he gestured towards the fog he had emerged from, struggling to find the correct word for whatever they were standing on. "Closed off by these barriers."

So he had experienced something similar. "Shall we explore the area?" Mirana suggested. She walked one round with Estes, which took no time at all. It was concluded that they were on a transparent boat or a tiny island of some sort, suspended in space. And there was no one else in the mysterious space-isle but the two of them. She shot him a look of panic, but he seemed unfazed about the situation. This calmed her down somewhat.

"What's that?" he pointed to the ground next to her.

Following his line of vision, she saw that he was referring to the ward that she had failed to plant. She bent down and picked it up. "Oh, it's an observer ward, used for illuminating areas on the battlefield, and for spying on enemy territory," she explained, fumbling with it again. "It doesn't seem to work here."

"The battlefield," Estes echoed. "So this was how your injuries came to be. I didn't want to probe, but now I understand. You're caught in a war."

Mirana let out a vexed sigh, perching herself on the low wall that was about several inches thick. The slightest wrong move would send her spiralling over the edge into the abyss. "It's a never-ending war, where one is killed and revived over and over again, for the goal of destroying the enemy's Ancient."

He sat down beside her. "Ah yes, I know about your war."

Her eyes grew large. "You do?"

"The War of the Ancients," he said. "I have heard of it, though I know little, as it is in a land far, far away. A long war which began more than a century ago before I went into my slumber."

More than a century ago, she tried to wrap that around her head. She couldn't tell how many centuries old he was, but judging by his poised and studied demeanor, his overall solemn expression and his high level of magical ability, he was likely one of the more mature ones of his race.

"It must be peaceful, where you come from," she said wistfully.

"Unfortunately not," Estes shook his head, wearily. "I, too, am caught in a similar war. I detest violence, and long for peace, but I have a duty to protect my people from the dark forces."

Mirana nodded slowly. She understood now; he was a leader of some sort; he had great responsibilities to shoulder. She wondered why he hadn't disclosed his title. Perhaps he had many enemies, and thought it wise not to reveal too much about himself.

"What happened before you landed here?" she asked, recalling her own experience with the black hole.

Estes pondered with a finger to his lips. "My battle ended victoriously, but after destroying the enemy's base, I must have gotten too close to the nexus and got teleported here by accident."

"Your war is over," she remarked enviously. "Mine has no end in sight."

"Over at the Land of Dawn, our battles are short," he explained. "After a brief period of rest, we may be summoned yet again to another war."

"You have your duties, and I have mine," she said. She'd never heard of the Land of Dawn, and was too embarrassed to ask further. "We are both fighting to protect what we hold dear."

Estes gave her another perceptive look. "You are an archer, aren't you?"

"How did you know?" she was surprised he could tell, since she wasn't carrying her weapons.

"From observing your shoulders, your fingers, your posture. You are a Moonlight Archer, just like my closest aide."

This must be a dream, Mirana thought. One moment she was almost killed in battle, and the next she was cared for by a stranger who knew her so well. Strangers and acquaintances came and went, but this particular one mattered like none other.

She shifted closer to him till she was an inch away. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, though Estes seemed completely at ease with the silence. She had no idea what was going on in his mind. She'd heard that moon elves were more open to befriending other races compared to other kinds of elves, and that was encouraging to her.

Her mind whirled. "Your book... what's it about?" she asked, truly curious about what lay under its ornate cover.

"Oh, it's the Code of Moonlight."

The Code of Moonlight? Mirana gasped. He must have gotten his powers from it. "Can I… have a look?" The words had barely come out of her mouth before she regretted it. She sounded a little rude.

Estes didn't mind it at all, flipping open the volume in front of her. Its pages were empty, at first, and then rows of tiny, neat inscriptions began to glow cerulean. Alas, she couldn't understand any of it. It was most likely Elvish.

"It's a shame I can't read it," she muttered.

"Perhaps, I could translate it for you if we ever get to meet again." With a smile he closed the book and turned his attention to the observer ward on the ground. "May I have a look at this?" he asked with interest.

She picked up the ward and gave to him. "Don't you have this over at your side?"

"No we don't," he said, fingers running over the stalk of crystallized eyeballs.

Mirana covered her mouth to hide the giggle bubbling inside her. The object was so cheap and so common, but Estes was studying it, turning it over and over in his hands, as though it were the most fascinating thing in the universe. His universe.

"You may keep it, if you wish," she shrugged. Pathetic as it was, it was the only thing she could offer him in appreciation. Will you remember me? She wanted to ask, but bit her lip. How foolish of her to even hope that a mortal like her would be of any consequence to him.

"Thank you." He tucked the ward into his robes.

She suddenly noticed something on the ground. It was something small and insignificant, but it made her heart sink. A crack had appeared in the glass right in front of her feet – a tiny fissure. It wasn't there previously, she was sure. The ground was too frail to hold them up. If they fell, where would they go? No, please, not so soon. I'm just starting to get to know him.

Had Estes noticed the crack too? He probably had, since he had keener senses. But he wasn't saying anything about it.

There was nothing they could do about it, in truth. But Mirana was now aware of the passing of time - there wasn't enough left. So she did what she had been wanting to do. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

It was awkward, as she had never done this before with any man. There had been suitors, back in the pre-war days, but she had never deemed any of them worthy of a second glance. Her pride and stubbornness were well-known.

She suddenly flushed at what she had done. For the love of Selemene, have some self-restraint! Lifting her head, she stammered, something she rarely did. "Do you, er… mind?"

"Not at all," Estes's voice held slight amusement of the goodnatured kind. A few strands of his hair had stuck to her cheeks and he brushed them away gently.

She let her head rest on his shoulder again, quickly explaining herself. "It's difficult to find friendship among my allies."

"Why is that so?"

"Well," she pursed her lips. "One of them is a hot-tempered fire mage. The other three do not remotely resemble humans - a giant scorpion, an enormous spider and a ferocious bear. My white tiger, Sagan, is my best companion, but I have lost him."

"A scorpion and a spider," he mused. "What interesting allies you have."

Mirana laughed dryly. "Indeed, strange alliances are formed in times of war." She tilted her head up at him. "And how about you? What kind of people or creatures do you fight alongside?"

"Humans, mostly," he said in a tone that betrayed nothing about how he felt.

"And do you get along with them?"

Estes paused. "I… have never given much thought about that. I heal any ally who needs healing, according to the Code of Moonlight, regardless of their race or personality."

That's admirable, Mirana thought. She balked at the thought of laying hands on the Sand King and the Broodmother. "I wish I could feel this way towards my allies. They are disunited; they speak different tongues, and yet they manage to argue incessantly about the most trivial of matters… like the courier."

"The courier? What's that?"

Mirana suppressed another giggle. He was so ancient, yet so childlike. If only there was time for her to know more about him, to uncover the layers one by one. If only.

"It's er, something that sends us our items from the shops," she explained.

Estes's interest seemed to be piqued. "Tell me more about your war."

"Hmm," Mirana pondered. "I don't suppose you know Carl, the Invoker?"

"Ah. The famed Arsenal Magus," he acknowledged. "He is… quite a character."

Mirana raised her brows. "Yes, that's one of the names he goes by."

CRACK.

The sound startled her, and on reflex, she activated Moonlight Shadow, cloaking them both in invisibility. It was something she did instinctively in any situation deemed a threat to her safety or that of her allies.

Estes glanced down in surprise at his own translucent form, and then at her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that," Mirana said and cancelled the spell. It wouldn't help them in this situation.

"That was you?" He gave her another of his disarming boyish grins.

"Yes, it's one of my skills," she said, unable to resist looking down at the ground again. There was now a fine network of cracks spreading through the glass like a spiderweb.

Her heart pounded.

She looked into Estes's pearly-white eyes again, and for the first time she noticed there were gold flecks in them. His face had the same serene expression throughout. It made her feel like a child, which was probably how he regarded her.

"I know. Don't look," he said softly. There was a note of something that could be melancholy in his voice – it was probably her imagination.

She laced her hand through his, forcing her mind to churn out something, because every passing second mattered. "How do you remain content, and yet continue to fight?" she asked.

"Being content isn't the same as being complacent," he said, his thumb tracing the back of her hand. "It is about trying one's best, yet accepting that there are some things that one cannot change. There are times where, despite my best efforts to keep an ally alive, he still dies. It is a fate I must accept, for I cannot resurrect the dead."

Another crack.

Mirana shifted slightly against his shoulder, feeling her throat constrict despite her best efforts to keep as calm as he was. "How does it feel," she whispered, searching his pale eyes, "…to go through war after war, death after death, and suffering that never seems to cease? How do you know that it is all worth it in the end?"

Estes gave her a look that she couldn't quite interpret. But that look was embedded in her heart like a shimmering moonstone, which she knew would stay forever. In a strange and wonderful way, it hurt.

"Even in the bleakest of times, there is beauty to be found." He reached out and smoothed her hair. "In the harshest of lands, one can find flowers that bloom and are worth caring for even though they will eventually fade away."

More snapping sounds could be heard as the glass broke. Beneath, the abyss waited.

"Estes…" she choked back her tears. I'd promised Selemene to be content... but I simply can't. Indeed she was like a spoiled child, always wanting more.

There was no time left.

As his fingers wiped away the moisture from her cheeks, she pulled him close and pressed her lips against his. He returned the kiss as if it were the most natural thing to do. Nothing else mattered. Eyes closed, she focused only on exploring his mouth and every feature of his face, his hair, committing everything to her memory. They were never going to meet again, she was sure. It was only by a random quirk of fate that their worlds had intersected.

The ground quaked violently as the ground gave way.

She held him very tightly. Farewell, Estes. I will never forget you.

Characters:

Mirana, Princess of the Moon (Dota 2)

Estes, King of the Moon Elves (Mobile Legends)

I'm not sure if anyone is going to read this, but if you do, please let me know. Your feedback will be greatly appreciated!