She was like the island itself now. She would claim what she needed of it, and decide what parts of Yamatai would be spared her wrath. The Storm God had taught her the ways of war, and Lara was only to happy to show what she had learned.
Mathias thought he knew what was happening. He thought he could control the Storm Queen, bend her ancient rage to his will. Lara had learned from him and his warriors, and now they were at her mercy, even as the wind howled with force enough to knock the tribal warriors off their feet, and sweep them off the mountain, Lara held fast.
The winds were more than unnatural, they were insane. The Enormous Temple at the top of the world was something from a pulp fiction novel, where the Ancient Masters would live. But there was nothing living.
And as Mathais made his pilgrimage, Lara gave chase. And as he destroyed the path behind him, Lara knew it as well as he did. The end had come.
Mathias had spent a lifetime dragging every poor unfortunate girl he found through the rituals, looking for a worthy Victim to offer; and now he was destroying the Temple paths and bridges behind him. He would never make this trek again. He would never return to the Sun Queen. He had banked everything, gambled everything, thrown away everything on faith that this one final victim would be enough to do it.
Mathias wasn't saving anything for later. There wasn't going to be a later.
Lara knew it too. Because not only would there be no second chance, there wouldn't be a temple. Yamatai summoned one last howl to try and beat her back; winds and lightning that ripped apart the temple, the pathways, the tunnels... The very mountain itself was coming apart.
And Lara kept going.
The Samurai Guard leaped through the disintegrating temple, charging on platforms that would never hold their weight, just for the chance, just for the possibility of killing her in the last hopeless seconds of their devotion.
And Lara kept going.
Every flake of soft powder snow, hurled at her fast enough to strip her face and hands raw, every time she slammed her climbing axe into the ice wall, another sheet of it would come down at her, and she would have to leap blindly to escape death, instant by instant. She paid for every inch she ascended as the mountain itself hurled boulders in her path.
And Lara kept going.
She wasn't at war with ancient guards, or with maniacs and murders. She was at war with Yamatai herself. And she was going to win.
It was The Ending. Her new life was ending. Everything was ending.
"There she is!" Someone yelled. "Kill her!"
Lara had heard those words before. She had pleaded with them, begged them to just leave her alone.
She wasn't like that any more.
"You won't stop me!' She howled back at them. "You can't stop me!"
She was Defiant.
She knew the Island now. Knew the storms. She had learned the source of them, and the reason for their fury. As the Queen of the place watched this final battle rage before her bones, Lara knew when to fight back, and when to huddle low and ride out the wind. Even Mathias didn't know when to bow before the wind. But he knew Lara was still standing when all his men were not, so he followed her example.
She wasn't learning survival any longer. There was nothing more this place could teach her. Even Mathias, who had lived a lifetime in this hell, was following her lead.
She was the Teacher.
And then, when she took him, she saw in his eyes the certainty. He had learned one last lesson, in the last seconds of his life. He had learned defeat.
Lara came at him, twin handguns firing steadily. Left trigger, right trigger. It was a strangely natural movement.
I'm doing it! I'm winning!
Left trigger, right trigger. Left trigger, right trigger. Usually, when she fought, she had hidden behind rocks, or walls, or debris; picking her moment and taking her shots, vanishing into the dark woods. But here at the top of the world, there was no cover, just her and her enemy.
I'm saving Sam!
Left trigger, right trigger. Left trigger, right trigger. She had never fought like this, as a quick, nimble gunslinger in the ancient, forgotten places; taking what she wished of lost tombs and leaving the rest in her wake.
I'm killing the Monster and the Madman. I'm winning!
Mathias howled as his body, which had survived an eternal hell on the Isle of Yamatai, fell before the fire of Lara Croft.
I've never felt like this before.
She was the Winner.
I hope this feeling never goes away.
She was the Tomb Raider.
Nobody came near her on the boat. They avoided her. Her friends, what was left of them, they all stayed back too. They didn't know where her headspace was, but they knew not to intrude on it.
Sam alone had come closer, grateful enough to bring Lara food or drink, offer thanks or company... Lara recognized the gesture on many levels. Gratitude for one. Sam had been rescued. Tribal for another; Sam was showing fealty to the alpha of their little pack. Emotional for another still. Sam was still recovering from the ordeal, and wanted the proximity of her protector.
Sam had given Lara a hug that never ended. It was the first piece of kindness in a hundred lifetimes that didn't involve a self-sacrificing death; and Lara loved her for it. She had returned the hug. It was the first time she had been gentle with anyone since forcing the crew to keep searching for the damned Island.
Sam put the Raider to rest, and brought Lara back to the surface. But even so, she was different now. Sam recognized it as much as anyone and returned to the others. Sam knew instinctively how she could repay her rescuer. Sam would answer the hundreds of questions. Sam would handle the doubts and convince them of the truth. Sam would defend the things done and the blood shed for the good of their little tribe, and for her own safety.
She would handle all these things, so that Lara wouldn't have to.
Lara watched the island as it faded into the distance... and found herself seriously considering whether or not to jump out of the boat and swim back. With all the mysteries of a thousand years left mostly unsolved, it was still a guaranteed place in the history books. After everything she had endured there, it didn't seem to make sense that she would leave after she had conquered it.
But for all that, Lara didn't want to stay for the opportunities. When she got back to civilization, she would return to her home. The apartment would be spotlessly clean, her family lawyers would be waiting to talk about the state of her trust fund, and to organize any TV Interviews that she would make. Whitman still had a studio expecting a world-shaking adventure story, and there would be papers to sign. They would expect her to make the story entertaining. Something she could laugh about on a morning show.
If she told them about Himiko, she would be locked up.
There would be food that had been frozen and waiting around to be eaten for six months. There would be eight kinds of perfume on her dresser, and a closet full of different outfits. If she went back to the Manor she could pick a car to drive for that day. If she went back to the manor that was held for her in trust, she would walk on the polished floor and be careful not to leave scuff marks with her boots. She would sleep in her queen sized bed on silk sheets, after spending a lifetime sleeping on dirt and stone.
Lara suddenly realized how ridiculous she was. Being wealthy had never made her spoiled. Her father had seen to that, as had Roth when her father never came back. But there was a difference between being spoiled and being smart.
Nobody came near her on the boat. They didn't know where her head was at, but they knew not to intrude.
The Raider stood alone.
AN: Read and Review
