Author's note: In this chapter draconic speech will be in bold, since none of the markers I tried work. :grumbles: I hate this...
chapter thirteen
The room was quiet, reflecting its owner's pensive mood perfectly. It was a silence meant to last, a silence filled with the memory of words spoken and the anticipation of words yet unsaid. A silence so thick that the door opening and closing didn't even cause a ripple in it. The uninvited guest slipped into the recently vacated chair and looked at Saetan, patiently waiting for him to come out of his thoughts.
Eventually, he did.
"Do you know what she told me, witch-child?"
Jaenelle shook her head, knowing her voice had no place in the room. Not that night.
"Your mother seems to share your talent for dissolving my convictions," Saetan said in a grumpy tone completely at odds with the affection in his eyes. "And just like you, she's more harmed than helped by her power. She's had to see the consequences of her mistakes, and she needs others to believe in her before she can forgive herself." He sighed. "You were right to send Kaelas to her; seeing someone who doesn't know would have saddened her again, I believe. And the Kindred have always known."
Sapphire eyes watched him unblinkingly.
"She has chosen to heal, and to fight for the Realms."
Witch smiled then, one hand unconsciously moving to her stomach.
"That is why she came back, wasn't it? Even if she did not realize it at the time, the reason she left the Abyss is that the Realms need her." Saetan paused. "Because her loved ones were in danger."
Eyes brightened to Summer-sky as Jaenelle nodded.
The silence settled again, certain that it would not be disturbed until morning.
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Lorn was rather surprised when his mate came down the stairs into his lair, a small globe of crafted flame lighting her way. There was a determined expression on her face that he was no longer used to seeing. It made him wary.
/What troublesss you? he asked.
Draca smiled then. "He did it. Sssaetan forgave Mother for the madnesss."
Lorn blinked, stunned that she had told the human at all.
"I sssussspected she would give him the truth, but I didn't know how he would receive it, or how long it would take him to underssstand what it meant."
/What elssse?
Draca raised an eyebrow. "That isss all."
/Sssomething happened to make you worry/ Lorn insisted. /I can't help until you tell me./
With a sigh and a faint smile Draca conceeded the point.
"Mother wouldn't have told him about the madnesss unlesss ssshe intended to ssstay in Kaeleer. And the only way for her to do ssso isss to sssave the Realmsss from father'sss plansss."
/You are afraid of what ssshe will have to do to keep the weave whole/ Lorn guessed/what they will push each other into doing./
"Yesss."
Draca settled on the floor beside him, putting her arm over his neck just behind the massive head. It was the closest to a hug they could get, and right now she needed the contact.
"I believe Mother hasss made the right choice, that ssshe ssshould ssstay with usss, but I know Father won't sssee it. He hasss too little underssstanding of the Realmsss." She paused, resting her cheek against Lorn's scales. "We cannot afford hisss willful blindnesss any longer."
You intend to speak to him, Lorn said aloud, in the language of dragons. To a human it would have sounded odd, a combination of hisses, growls and near-human syllables all spoken in a deep rumbling voice.
But there were no humans present. Only Draca, who was no longer physically able to answer him in the same tongue, yet understood perfectly what he said, and why he'd chosen to speak.
"He will not believe me unlesss I go to him," she said, not surprised to feel her mate tense.
You are barred from the Sanctuary, we both are. We are too much of the Darkness.
Draca pressed closer to him, wishing she could reassure him without lying. From his voice, she knew Lorn had predicted her intentions. Nothing but the exchange ritual could have put that kind of fear in him, a fear she would be a fool not to share.
If either of them faltered in focus or conviction during the ritual, or if she lingered too long in the Sanctuary, the exchange would be irreversible. The mingled nature of the spell itself would sustain them, but if it were shattered their lives would be lost. It would not be death as mortal beings knew it, no return into the Darkness. They would be torn apart, their minds fragmented and set across the Realms.
"I'm sssorry, my love, but I mussst do thisss."
Lorn shuddered, his eyes falling closed in an attempt to hide his emotions from her.
My brave protector, Draca thought fondly. Alwaysss trying to shield me from the unpleasssantnesss of reality.
She sat a little straighter, squaring her shoulders.
Thisss time, I will protect you, asss much asss posssible.
"I will not allow an equal exchange," she said firmly. "I can't risssk you. If I fail, Mother will need you. I will take only what Light isss necesssary to reach the Sssanctuary."
It will make you vulnerable.
"We are all vulnerable. No one can ssstand againssst Mother or Father, no matter where we are. They didn't bind that much strength into the Realms."
Lorn sighed. I will help you. I won't pretend to agree, but I will help.
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Yssandra sat up, startled by a sudden shift in the Darkness. She looked anxiously in the direction of the Keep, knowing that was where Draca had been.
There are other ways, daughter, and you know them. Why choose the most dangerous?
Her eyes hardened as Darkness swirled, condensing into a visible shroud around her. When she reached for Orolin's mind her voice was glacial cold, carrying a hint of the rage that had bathed the Realms in blood.
/If she is hurt, I swear the Sanctuary won't be bright enough to save you./
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The worst part of the ritual wasn't the drain of Darkness. It was painful, but far from overwhelming. It was dangerous, but as long as nothing disturbed them, Draca wouldn't feel any ill effects physically.
But mentally…
The Realm was so very different when viewed with eyes of Light. She saw the Weave as she could never see it with her natural eyes, and the strands of Darkness were ominous things to her now. They marred the Weave, dimmed the Light, tainted the world…
Draca shook her head.
Thessse are not my thoughtsss. The memoriesss of my ancessstorsss will not control me. They chossse to die. Their doubtsss and fearsss can't be allowed to rule even if they linger in the Light.
She rose into the Sanctuary, looking at the shape her mind had taken. It mimicked her physical body, and it would not help her cause to appear before her father in human form. Focusing her will, she changed into the likeness of a dragon – not as large nor as dark as her real body had been before she'd made the Blood, but she knew Orolin would see it as an improvement. He'd always been uncomfortable with the fact that Draca had taken after Yssandra rather than him.
Foolish of them to expect me to be otherwissse. Mother wasss the counter for all the dragonsss. How could her Darknesss posssibly be equal to or lesss than Father's Light? I'm sssurprisssed I wasssn't Darker.
Draca rose higher, pushing the limits of her strength. She knew that Orolin had to be aware of her – unlike the Abyss, nothing disturbed the solitude of the Sanctuary – but he would wait until she could go no further before he reached out to her.
Ssso ssstubborn…
She suppressed a sigh, then wondered why she'd bothered. So far into the Sanctuary and with so little Darkness to confuse him, Orolin couldn't be unaware of her frustration. He might try to ignore it, but he would feel it.
Father, she called softly. Am I so out of favor that you will not even give me greeting?
Only silence answered her, dragging out so long that she began to worry that Orolin truly would ignore her. The Light around her moved lazily, oddly similar to how Darkness reacted close to Yssandra, and a golden dragon appeared in front of her. They watched each other silently, Draca wondering if her memory was playing tricks on her or if Orolin was smaller than he used to be.
Welcome, daughter, he said eventually, sounding pleased. It's been a long time since you visited.
And even longer since you visited me, Draca retorted. She refused to dance around the subject and give Orolin time to build counterarguments and work his way deeper into denial. The Realms have missed you.
I will return when Terreille is restored, and the dragons can be reborn. Orolin smiled toothily. You must have felt that I am cleaning the Weave.
I have felt Light withdrawing from Kaeleer and gathering in Terreille. I have felt you try to separate Light and Darkness. I still don't understand what you hope to gain.
There was a moment of silence and the Light stirred agitatedly.
Isn't it obvious, daughter? Orolin sounded genuinely surprised, and a little angry. I will make Terreille a true Realm of Light again, and your mother may have Kaeleer to fill with her Darkness.
Draca wished there was some solid ground so she could sit down. Hovering in the Light wasn't tiring, but the familiar, physical sensation would have helped to calm her.
Thisss will take hoursss…
You can't do that, Father. It won't bring our kin back, but it will kill everyone but you and Mother if you succeed.
Of course it will bring them back. There was a time when Light made the eggs we hatched from, and it will do so again, once it's free from the Darkness. Your mother made Hell from her own power, and it created life – twisted, imperfect creatures, yes; but alive. He gave Draca a disapproving glare. Do you think the Light is weaker than the Darkness?
Don't play games with me, Father, Draca said sharply. We both know that Mother has tied too much of herself into the Realms and their inhabitants to compete with your strength. If you fight each other, she will lose simply because she will try to protect us from you.
Orolin blinked, taken off guard. Why would you need protection? You and Lorn will be welcome in Terreille.
Welcome or not, we wouldn't be able to survive there. Draca paused. You must understand that we are of mingled powers, just like the plants and animals that fill the Realms. We wouldn't survive if the Darkness were torn from us.
Of course you would! Orolin scoffed. If you are Light enough to come into my Sanctuary, then the cleansed Realm will not be a danger to you.
Draca sighed, wishing she was in human form so she could rub her temples. Doing it with claws on scales didn't have the same effect.
You know that Lorn and I are locked in the exchange ritual. You know that he has taken my Darkness. And you know that he must give it back when I return to Kaeleer. I will not survive as I am now.
But you were born in the old Kaeleer!
There was a kind of desperate anger in Orolin's voice, and Draca felt almost sorry to crush his conviction. But as she'd told Lorn, they couldn't afford blindness any longer.
Lorn may be older than me, she said calmly, but he is much younger than Mother. When he was born, there was already life in the Realms. We have never seen the Realms of pure Light that you remember, and it's too late to bring them back.
No. Orolin drew himself up, eyes glowing with power as he attempted to stare her down. I will leave a thread of Light in Kaeleer's weave if you truly cannot leave the Darkness behind, but I will not give Terreille up.
Draca allowed silence to stretch between them and tried to see a way through the nest of tangled truths and wishes her father hid inside.
You have to know, even if you don't admit it… What can I sssay to make you realissse that you are trying to fight a battle long lossst?
And then it hit her; the utter contradiction of what Orolin was doing and what he was saying.
I have you now, Father, even if you take centuriesss to forgive me.
Why risk the destruction of two Realms when you can make a new one?
Orolin flinched.
Mother made Hell, why don't you make a Realm of Light?
I… Terreille is… Orolin backed away, eyes wide with uncertainty. He had no defense for that question, and Draca pressed her advantage.
You have more than enough power; more than Mother had free when she made her new home. You know how to weave; unlike Mother you've been able to watch a Realm be made. So what's holding you back?
Orolin was trying to withdraw, to hide beyond her reach, but Draca reached for his mind and he did not lock her out – couldn't deny her any more than Yssandra could have when she was deep in the Abyss.
You know that there is no going back to the old Realms. The time of the dragons is over. A mingling of power is what makes the world now, and neither you nor Mother can escape it. She drew a shuddering breath, afraid of how he would react to the final truth. You gave Mother a sliver of Light when she was exiled. Without it, Hell could not be a living Realm any more than Terreille and Kaeleer lived before she was born. You have not attempted to weave a Realm of your own because you do not have a touch of Darkness to bring it to life, and you couldn't bear the sight of a barren mockery of what the Light Realms were. You gave Mother Light, whether she knows it or not, and you used it to wake her from the madness.
Draca expected a lot of things – panicked denial, anger, desperate attempts at proving her wrong – but pain wasn't one of them. Orolin's cry of anguish tore into her, making it impossible to think, to move, to do anything but scream with him –
– and suddenly she could hear no voice but her own, echoing through Lorn's lair as her body convulsed and Darkness rushed back, cool and soothing. She lay still, gasping for breath and blinking away tears as she tried to order her mind, grateful for her mate's presence.
"He ssseesss now," she managed to force out of her raw throat, interrupted by a cough that stained the floor with blood. "He can't turn from the truth again."
/Ressst, my love/ Lorn sent gently, conjuring a bed for her.
Draca nodded faintly, not protesting when Geoffrey tucked her in.
When did he get here? she thought confusedly, but sleep claimed her before she could ask.