Elder your time is come
(So soon...too much soon...)
Now I am filled with sorrow
(Feelings that shall never be erased...)
Weary eyes need resting
(No matters the day, the years nor the centuries)
Heart has become grey and slow
(An everlasting blind hatred.)
In waking sleep is freedom
(My ultimate price for revenge : my freedom.)
The dark green dust.
Witherfang's first memory was of Zathrian's hunger for forbidden power to make his revenge a reality.
A deep wrenching ache coring at the inner walls of his flesh, always begging for relief but nevertheless cannot be acknowledged,
not when it is so starkly reflected in the pale, drawn humans faces all around him.
On the battlefield, it is a disgrace to feel pain and fear. The economy of war is a lean science, with no room for imprecision and leniency.
Within nature, it is a disgrace to feel hunger on an empty belly. Courage has become a commodity. When the beast called "human" writes the rules, nothing will be without drastic consequences.
Zathrian's revenge was done.
Her creator...no...
Her god had bring justice.
He had a proud and empty face.
But even if he didn't show or said anything, the...immoral "bond" between her and Zathrian didn't lie.
The lady of the forest had her first emotion.
Sorrow.
Witherfang's second memory was of Zathrian's hatred.
The lady of the forest, cannot have known hunger, but the more she could taste of what her creator felt, the more she felt her own feelings spread inside her heart and soul.
Her courage bests him again and again but courage untested is but an untempered sword. So that time again she finds herself gasping in the dirt.
The werewolves were worried sick about her even if she said it was nothing. Even apart she could feel his emotions, his anger was contagious. But still for everyone's sake, she put away her savage nature and kept her will stable.
She could feel again what was on Zathrian's mind every day. It made her understand her actions and her second emotion.
A young elf boy with a big grin on his face because he had made his first bow.
A young elf girl with a gentle innocent smile greeting her beloved father.
She could see all those memories and couldn't help but understand why he was so stubborn even if they were now enemies.
In the beasts eyes, the lady of the forest has never been more alive and beautiful than she was now.
It was because of her second emotion that she could protect them.
Love.
Witherfang's third memory was of Zathrian's depravity.
The first time reunion after all those years. He failed a battle and barely made alive from it.
To save his clan. He was the one who suffered, HIS son was beaten to death and HIS daughter was raped by disgusting beasts called "humans". He is the justice. Yet..
What is not enough? !
In disbelief, he took refuge in what he knew. He starved himself further, shores up power until his body is crackling with it, threaten to split even as he stretched himself thinner and thinner, milk skin over iron bones.
But still it was not enough, and soon he was back where he started, choking on dust.
Again and again, they rise and fight, and again and again, he lose and fall.
She became his obsession.
And Zathrian couldn't stand it. Witherfang was supposed to be the wicked. She and the others beasts should be punish and NOT him.
He may be the strongest of his clan, but that doesn't make him any less prey to their curse.
Already his time is running out: each day spent on the battlefield is one less day he will spend in the world.
He rakes his fingers into the dirt, cracks his bloodied mouth and sucks in a sour breath, and with it, overwhelming esurience.
Not enough.
You haven't suffered enough.
His two last memories, tired and weak. Like twin streams, they crawl through the veins of his life.
Such is the price to pay for his revenge.
"Lady...I..."
"My heart was entwined by darkness."
She placed her left hand over her chest.
Two bodies, one emotion.
A Departure.
A desire to meet the same end.
His eyes slowly became empty and his last words were :
"Let us finish this...Together."
Zathrian's body turning cold, choking on the smell of blood, his voice and his breathing and his pulse are disappearing.
He was right there but Witherfang wasn't able to hear anything, she could only hear her pulse pounding like madness.
"He is gone." those words came back inside her mind again and again.
Everything for revenge.
Everything for justice.
"He is gone."
The payment for hating and seeking revenge is cruel.
"And so am I."
Too cruel.
But even if she can not weep anymore...
It's alright.
Because both the Dalish and the forest will keep on remembering and weeping.
In the dark green dust.
End