The Race Against Time
The Companion raced desperately to get to her Chosen in time.
Less than a candlemark was left.
She went faster, even breaking the rules by using Fetching to cover more distance.
Time was running out.
She screamed in fury, knowing she wouldn't make it. Her Chosen would be gone, taken away by a force stronger than even the gods, to a far off world. Her frantic mind sought to find an answer, before she was killed by the soul-wrenching that was inevitable. Suddenly she had an idea. A crazy one, almost impossible, but it just might work. No sane Companion would ever think of trying it—but one is not sane when their Chosen will be torn away without it.
The candle burned lower, slowly melting down the minutes.
She changed course, heading off at an angle, still in her headlong rush. As she crossed roads and fields, people leaped out of her way, staring—never before had a Companion ever gone as fast as her. Her fury was lending her strength, strength that she so desperately needed. She was tiring fast, but if she slowed she wouldn't make it. Finally her legs gave out. Bellowing in anguish, she fell to the ground.
The wax pooled at the bottom of the holder; the wick was slowly approaching the end of the hour.
Only one way she would ever reach it in time—but it would mean breaking one of the most guarded secrets of all. She didn't care anymore, it was this or lose her Chosen. She tapped into a ley-line to replenish her energy, than began to weave a gate. Her chosen was so far away, she could barely manage a Gate to reach there—but her other destination was just close enough. Only a sliver of time left—she somehow dragged herself through. The time expired, and she sank into oblivion as her body disappeared from the earth.
The wick slowly sank into the melted wax as the flame flickered and died out.