They say recovery is a long and slow road. They're wrong. In my case, recovery took precisely five seconds of gazing into shadow-wrought eyes. Of course, my case isn't exactly the norm. Insanity isn't usually brought on by getting shoved into a caldron of death while your sister screams, or by suddenly being able to see a jumbled, shifting, terrifying future. I'm not really sure which of the two caused it, actually. Probably both. Anyway, my name is Elain Archeron. And I'm not insane. Unfortunately.
"How does it feel?" Nesta was curled in my bed next to me, my bed that was also a prison that was also a throne that was also a blood tipped spear. I might add that I was still insane at this point. Forgive me if it gets a bit confusing at times. "how does it feel too.. see what you do?" Nesta, not dead, continued. "Are you frightened?"
"Dear, death, fear, they fly on birds wings to quick to stay in my little head. Look out kitty cat." Again. A bit more than a bit insane. But I had more control than before, I was learning to fly with my mind and eat the bleeding thoughts that came. Nesta rolled closer, not touching me, but There.
"I wish… I wish we could talk like we used to, Elain. It's so selfish of me. But I don't know who else to go to, and I think that if someone doesn't talk some sense into me, I may just go kiss that ridiculous Cassian, just to spite him." I was quiet, trying to decide if my desired squeal of joy would come out as another stinking nonsense prophesy instead. Nesta sighed, and left, probably. It's hard to remember details correctly, and all I can say for sure is that she did not fly away on a blood red cat. Probably.
The next morning, I found the garden as I had left it the day before. Spring was turning into summer, and I cooed at my snapdragons that didn't bite off my fingers and dug up weeds that had just been planted. That part wasn't the madness. I had a Garden Friend. They came at night, or whenever I wasn't looking and brought me food to eat that didn't bleed when I bit it, and planted weeds for me to pull up. My Friend noticed how much I needed to stay busy, he took care of me, and in return, I pretended to not notice him standing so often in the little shadows, watching over me. He was always hiding. But I always knew exactly where Azriel was.
I sang to myself a little, content with the sun on my back, and shadows all around.
"Little bird, haunting, stalking the kitty, the kitty cat. They chased round and round and never knew what they were chasing at!" Singing always drew out the friendliest shadows, and I smiled up at Azriel, squinting the blood out of my eyes as he sat down next to me, close enough to touch.
"You've got some dirt on your head, kitten." Ah,dirt, then, not blood.
"I'm not the kitten, you are." I always felt almost sane around Azriel.
"Oh?" His brow arched, and the madness curled up on itself a little more. "Should I start purring like Rhysand then?" I tried to come up with the perfect response, but got distracted digging worms out of my skin with the trowel. Before I could get all the way down to them, to the bone, my hands were caught up in something. Azriel's hands were calloused, but still so so soft. Safe. My breath stopped in my chest. But touch, as a seer, is… not great. You see too much. And that beautiful almost-summer day, I saw far too much.
The next I remember, someone was screaming, crying, dying. The world was lost in a haze of shadows, that part probably actually happened, Azriel was so worried, poor thing.
"What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO." A voice cut through the blood like a blade, leaving my vision clear, I could see everything, everything, and everything was death and nothing went dark.
"She was cutting herself again, I just stopped her and I, I don't know, Nesta, what- how can i, I just-" I had never heard Azriel say so many words put together, Rhysand would throw a party if he hadn't been off hunting something with Feyre, but there was no time, and the screaming just. Would. Not. Stop.
"You touched her?" Nesta's voice had gone still, like a predator stalking its prey so so slowly.
"Yes." He had regained his composure, pity, that.
"Well. Just. Just put her down, here. I'll calm her down." I floated through space, landed back on the bloody spear of a bed. I curled into the tightest ball, squishing out the madness with the sense. Even in my state, I felt him leave, saw the shadows retract, and mourned them. Nesta joined me on the bed, drowning in insanity, in panic.
"What did you see, Elain."
"Little bird, haunting, stalking the kitty, the kitty cat-"
"Elain."
"They're hunting the lightning, but the sun, the sun is already here."
"Okay, Rhys and Feyre? Hunting the thing that's been burning down the villages? Are you saying it's already here?"
"Too late, the dark is gone too late!"
"Azriel." His name, ringing flatly from her mouth was enough to wrench me to my feet, I stood, swaying, and tumbled after my fate. I needed to find him. The future could be changed. The kitten. The snapdragons. I awoke face-down in my beloved snapdragons, they tried to whisper warnings, but too late, too late, the sun was blotted out. Azriel, above me, protecting me from the sun. My fault. The sun. It grew. And then we were laying down together, in the snapdragons, Nesta fought off the sun as I stared into the eyes of the darkness. They were so beautiful. The longer you stared, the deeper his eyes got, it was like floating in the caldron, Azriel's eyes, but happy, peaceful. I took a deep, cool breath, the first of my new life, and awoke from my madness. Awoke, to a nightmare. Azriel was in my arms, in the garden, everything was perfect. I was clear-minded; somehow, Azriel had saved me. Saved me in more ways than one. I was sane, and able to see the darkness clearing from the eyes of my beloved. The wound he had protected me from as I lay in the garden draining his life. Nesta killed the fire-bird. My vision killed Azriel. The bird hunts the cat, the cat hunts the bird, neither know where they're chasing at.
They say recovery is a long and slow road. They're wrong. In my case, recovery took precisely five seconds of gazing into shadow-wrought eyes, until the shadows faded. My name is Elain Archeron. And I am not insane. Unfortunately.