A few months later…
The sun had yet to set, despite the lateness of the fall day, casting long shadows across the ground. These fragmented into strands of sunlight and darkness as they passed through the trees and hedges of the garden, woven into an ethereal quilt that lay over two lovers as they reclined on a couch hidden in a secluded corner. Much like the beams and shade danced with each other, Nedra's slender fingers were entwined with Iluvayen's own fair digits. Though it had been a long day for both of them, it had seemed far longer to Nedra. The image that kept flitting through her mind was that of Pryss' reddened face as she swore angrily at the enchantress as the guards dragged her off. Over the past few weeks, their relationship had drastically changed.
Though their friendship had ever been as unstable as the auburn-haired magician's temper, something had changed this day that had driven her to attack her using what little magic she was in command of. That Pryss was angry with her didn't surprise Nedra, the strike of flame that scorched her apprentice's robes as she attempted to strike down an orc pawn that shocked her beyond belief. Pryss had been beyond furious when her older brother discovered their 'relationship' in his sister's diary and spread the fact all over town. But then her fury had been inwardly directed, something had seemingly twisted Pryss' personality all out of shape. Her composure, even when under great stress, which was quite often, was legendary. Though she would fume, hiss, threaten, needle, taunt, and glare, she never went physical with her anger.
Yet as Iluvayen bent over her, the fiery orange of Pryss' Flame bolt was replaced by the cool blue of his eyes and the calm soft rose of the sunset matching the blush upon her cheeks. She lifted a hand to trace along his cheek and he smiled that gentle smile that he seemed to only give to her, and murmured to her, "Feeling better?" Nedra's violet eyes closed briefly and she whispered back, as softly as he had spoken, "Yes…now that you're here. That's why I love you…you're the only one who understands me. All of my confused thoughts, my dreams, you make them right…always." Iluvayen's smile grew wider and he raised his eyes back to look out over the garden as he held his fiancée closer to him. For a while they just lay there, not saying anything, listening to the fading birdsong as night moved into the hills of the manors of Felwithe.
After a while, he said to Nedra, "As to your earlier question…I have no real answer for you. For a woman to love another woman, or for a man to love another man, it's rare to the point of non-existence in our society. That is of course, not to say that it doesn't happen, even to love both men and women in your unique situation. Pryss' behavior is inexcusable, even if her thoughts were suddenly swayed by her parents…not that they mattered before."
He sighed, twining a finger in one of her golden curls before continuing, "I think that though the youths in our society are more open to new thought, it may well take a thousand years for the adults to believe that universal love can exist and not be morally wrong. Erolissi states that all are to be loved, and all love is to be cherished, does that not mean that all kinds of love are to be tolerated? I find it odd that they often use Tunare's creatures to support their argument, since it has been observed by the best scientists, including those at the Ak'Anon zoo that animals of the same gender can feel amorous towards one another…But even so, Pryss' sudden change does not owe to such arguments, as she has dismissed them up until now. She did not even act as herself; it was if her mind was…scrambled."
A low, throaty chuckle drew his attention back downwards as Nedra laughed to herself, muttering, "If only that were true." Iluvayen's mouth curved into a slight smirk as he pinched her cheek, chiding, "Don't be cruel, milady." She giggled and reached up to tweak one of his ears, prompting a retaliation of the wizard reaching his hands down to tickle her sensitive sides. This gentle play continued until the both of them were tangled together on the bench, breathing slightly hard, long hair askew, white strands gilt with shining trim where their tresses mixed. Their faces had ended up close together, and as each felt the other's warm breath upon their cheeks, they drifted closer to meet in a gentle kiss.
But unfortunately, this contact was broken by a call from the Gesmolten manor house by Iluvayen's mother, Nienna. "Children! Dinner is ready! Hurry, you would not care for the pasta to grow cold!" her firm but melodious voice carried to where they lay. Swiftly, they disentangled themselves from each other and Nedra produced a brush with which she fixed the hair of her fiancé before addressing her own tangles. As she worked, she whispered coyly to Iluvayen, "Two hundred and fifty years old, and she still calls us children?" He shrugged as he leaned back into her as her hands and brush ran through his smooth hair, cushioned by her soft curves. "I think she'll still call us children even if we were over a thousand…it's a sign she still loves us as much as when we were small, no matter how many winters that have passed."
Before getting up to hurry to the open doors to the dining room, Nedra put her lips to Iluvayen's ear and murmured softly, "Someday, not too far in the future, she'll have someone to call child all she likes." A jolt pulsed through the wizard's body and breath left his body. But before he could ask her the truth, she danced away, motioning for him to follow her to the dinner. Sitting there, collecting himself, eventually he grinned to himself, realizing that this was just her way of building anticipation. Rather than taunting him, this was to ensure he was too curious to pass up her secret when she eventually told him.
The dinner seemed to fly by as Iluvayen kept sneaking glances at his lover, hoping that he could detect the signs of his suspicions, but aside from a contented glow, none revealed themselves. He barely even noticed the rich pasta in meat sauce that his mother had prepared, making small talk if necessary, but his mind was on other things. One was concerning how Nedra had been eating dinner with them far more often than she did at her own home. Not that Iluvayen blamed her. Her father had become near intolerable, and even her brother Zektoll could not control the elder Fiamma's temper. Increasingly Nedra even stayed overnight, joining Iluvayen in his bed, which thankfully was large enough to accommodate them both comfortably. This saddened the Gesmolten youth much, as when he had been over to the Fiamma mansion he had appreciated the style and taste present in everything that dwelt within that house. From the rich dishes prepared by the cook to the décor, it provided a marked change from the practical, hearty, yet elegant nature of his own home. Though the Gesmolten family possessed much the same wealth as the house of Fiamma, including as many servants, the lord and lady of the house insisted on doing many things themselves.
Finally refusing dessert, he nearly dragged Nedra upstairs as he raced to sequester themselves in his room, and she walked swiftly behind, laughing behind a hand at his eagerness to confirm his suspicions. As soon as the door closed, he had her hands clasped in his as he held her close to him, his question more apparent in his eyes than on his lips. Though she was tempted to lead him on further, her discovery yesterday had made her eager as well, and she couldn't wait to let Iluvayen into the confidence that currently only she and her governess, Sohana knew. "Yes, darling, Sohana helped me confirm it yesterday, I'm pregnant!" she exclaimed, beaming. The moment the words escaped her mouth, Iluvayen's heart swelled with pride and love. For over a year now, Nedra had made it known to him that one of her deepest desires was to be a mother, since she had lacked one herself for so long. And to be one of the first couples of their generation to have a child…it would bring honor upon both their houses.
"That's fantastic!" he replied, embracing her tightly. Letting out a soft cry of excitement, Nedra returned the gesture fervently, burrowing her face into her chest with pleasure. Their wedding was scheduled for half a year from this time, but she would not even be showing much sign by that point. Pulling back briefly, Iluvayen realized with a start that his parents would be overjoyed to hear this news, and started to move towards the door but was surprised to be held back by Nedra's hand as she divined his intention. Sadly, she shook her head no. He was almost bursting with exuberance, but her finger to his lips silenced him. "No, don't tell your parents until the wedding…I don't want this to get out until we're married," she explained, a fearful look showing in her amethyst eyes. It took several moments, but Iluvayen's swift mind reached the only possible conclusion.
"You fear your father's wrath, don't you? If he has even slight doubt as to this child's legitimacy…" he began, and Nedra nodded, her curls bouncing as she finished his sentence, "…he and the other elders will be convinced forever that I have no manner of honor at all." Gritting his teeth, Iluvayen pulled her back into a tight hug, placing a hand atop her head to comfort her as she rested her face in the crook of his arm. "I understand…we will both protect our son as much as we can, until it is time," he growled to the air, as much a prayer as a statement. Comforted by his quiet strength, Nedra felt confident enough now to prod at his chest and chirp, "Son? I don't think it's early enough to be picking out the child's name just yet!" Iluvayen laughed and stroked her hair, and replied, "All right, all right, I admit to a certain hope, but I will love our child no matter whether it is a spirited daughter or a noble son." As they stood there, swaying, Iluvayen added one final request, "Would you please stay inside the city walls then? I dare not risk your life, or that of the baby at this point." Nedra hesitated, not wanting to let go of the exciting days of hunting out in the Faydark forest, but her soon to be husband's presence and earnest voice quickly made her relent, as Iluvayen had always proved that he could bring the outside world to her if she wished. As soft as the breeze of night air that wafted into the room from the open window, she whispered, "Yes, for all our sakes."
In the city proper, Piyoa stewed at the window, a copy of "Riding the Aether" open in her hand. She had grown to be her sister's equal in beauty, pale alabaster skin and hair as white as pure snowfall contrasting to her striking plum robes and twilight eye-shadow. The news had struck her rather hard; and though she knew she should be elated, inwardly she cursed her lack of even a genuine suitor. No, that was not true, she amended, she did have a far too willing suitor in the form of Celsiir, the paladin that seemed to haunt her every step. Her slender pink slips formed a slight smile as she realized that was as much her fault as any, for when she and Fleuyr had risked venturing as far as the Butcherblock Mountains, they had not wanted to go without a sword at their side, and when Celsiir had presented himself, they had swiftly accepted his aid. Celsiir was able, intelligent, and dashing, but he was far too…passionate. It had amazed her that even after just a day's adventure together, he would turn up at almost any opportunity to try and woo her.
Placing the book back on the shelf with the rest of her collection, Piyoa sighed and cast herself back on her small but elegant bed on the second floor of Sohana Pjara's townhouse. "You ought to be flattered…you have one of the most desired young men of Felwithe falling at your feet…yet you keep turning him away, why?" Ice-blue eyes stared up at the ceiling as she laid a delicate hand atop her breast, feeling her pulse throb faintly beneath her palm. Inwardly, her heart desired a tumultuous romance, much like those she read about, and that she had observed her sister and Iluvayen were currently embroiled in, but deeper within herself she realized that the man she wanted would have to match her perfectly. And Celsiir was not that man, no matter how much he…or she might desire him to be. Smiling cynically, she shook her head and chuckled to herself, a husky, throaty sound. "Everything's right but the pace…" she grumbled, easing herself up to pull one of her sketchbooks out and flipped to the last page she had drawn.
She had drawn the paladin in a stage he was rarely in…calmness. Celsiir was fervent in everything he did, from praying, to fighting, to romance. So much fire in him, she mused, when she craved cool water. Flipping to a new page, she lifted aloft a charcoal stencil and cast her gaze out into the night as she let her hand guide itself around the page. She had discovered this talent when she was a little girl…she could draw a faint outline of virtually anything her heart or unconscious dreamt up, and then she could later make a better sketch and eventually ink it in, and finally color. As her hand moved of it's own accord, Piyoa heaved another sigh as she let the cool autumn breeze cool her passion. It was one of the few traits she shared with her sister, though she feared that she shared more. It was not long now until the Acknowledgement…she had waited so long…Until she and her sister both reached their twentieth season and were to inherit the surname of their family and choose the one that they would use outside of the city…
"Are you in here, Piyoa?" she heard a voice call from the doorway. Piyoa's pale face brightened like the moon coming out from behind a cloud as she turned to the entrance of her guardian, Sohana. The elder high elven woman had been more of a surrogate mother than a governess, and Piyoa had come to care deeply for the cleric, and the lonely woman returned the feelings. Her husband's leave had been denied again due to an invasion of gnolls in Highpass, so Sohana had come to rely more and more upon her young charge. Sohana's light blue eyes came to rest on Piyoa much as her hands came to rest on her hips, firmly. "Are you moping up here again? I would think that learning that Nedra was expecting would thrill you!" Piyoa's sketching slowed and came to a rest as her good mood faltered. She lowered her head and tried to begin a sentence, but the feelings choked the words off.
Recognizing the stress in the young woman, Sohana moved over to the bed and sat down by her charge. "Really, how can you be jealous? You're young yet, far younger than when I met my own husband, you should be just now welcoming the first of what are surely to be many suitors," she told the snowy-haired wizard, placing a well-worn hand on the younger woman's shoulders. Piyoa resisted the urge to snort at the irony, and instead heaved a larger sigh as she resumed sketching. Eventually she replied, "I know, mother, yet I cannot help but feel an ache in my heart when I see them together, so happy. I feel almost as much as she does…that bond between us has not shattered, yet when I cannot see her these emotions darken again. I don't bear her any ill will, but instead I am torn between my desire to remain calm and proper, and to explode in a flare of feeling like Nedra does. I grow anxious to arrive at the date when all this secrecy will finally be thrown aside!" At the final sentence, her voice grew slightly elevated, and her stencil scratched the paper with a fury.
Sohana smiled inwardly as she recognized the age-old argument being revived yet again. It had been hard on the girl to endure private lessons, being guided to and fro rather than being allowed to go free like her sister, but this was all for the good. It both amused and saddened her that Piyoa tried so hard to emulate her own demeanor, which had been forged and reinforced over centuries of service to the city, which she felt was denying her surrogate daughter's inner nature. Giving Piyoa's shoulder a squeeze, Sohana responded, "And it will come soon! Keep at your studies, and maybe you will even outpace your sister, and reach twentieth season first! Now wouldn't that be a treat? And you're in the springtime of your life! Feel free to become closeted and stodgy later, get out and enjoy life more!" Piyoa smiled and didn't respond, but Sohana could tell by the relaxed tension in her posture that her words were sinking in, even if it was only slightly. Satisfied, she went to the door and stepped out, closing it softly behind her.
Piyoa sighed as Sohana left. It was the same advice again, but it grew slightly more sensible each time she heard it. If only she could break her habits…but she worried that she would be swept along by a flood of passion if she even opened her soul's gates even a sliver more than she already had. Setting her sketchbook down, she undressed for bed, claiming her nightgown from the wardrobe as she shut the window and lowered the lamplight to prepare to go to bed. As she undid the loose ties in her hair, she finally noticed the drawing that she had made as she had daydreamed and talked. It was a man with dark gray hair, prominent cheekbones, intense eyes, and an almost regal bearing. But this was no scholar, despite the refined appearance. He wore leathers and carried a staff, which was twined with ivy. "A druid?" she wondered to herself as she studied the drawing as she sat down upon the bed. After a long while, she slipped the sketchbook back under the bed in its place as she pulled the covers over herself. "He's handsome at least…" she whispered to herself as drowsiness came on her.
The next day was more of the same…yet again, Piyoa groused to herself as she trudged along ahead of her three-person party. Or at least, she was attempting to. Celsiir repeatedly clambered past her, moving swifter than she in his leather armor than she could in her robe and his longer stride aiding in his efforts to 'safeguard the maidens under his care'. Fleuyr was no help as usual; she thought the whole thing was cute. Piyoa didn't get it…the peach-tressed wizard was as attractive as she, and was of a calm, almost adorable personality. She acted like everyone's gentle older sister, and was every bit the picture of the good lady that any lord would want to take as the object of his affection. But for some reason, all the lads of Felwithe seemed to go after those deemed, "playing hard to get." Which of course, made Piyoa number one in the eyes of many of the young men of both Felwithe, and even Kelethin!
She was very grateful to, yet felt somewhat snubbed by Iluvayen, the man her sister had fallen in love with. Despite her attempts to change her face with makeup, and her style of dress and hair, Iluvayen had reached the truth easily, much to her dismay. While her subtle changes fooled the other boys, the other wizard could swiftly spot the twin of his beloved. This of course necessitated his being brought in on the secret, lest he betray her and Sohana's goals. And he had remained true to his word, helping teach her and safeguard her from her older sister. It was hard indeed, given how often Nedra came to be with him, but he managed somehow. It struck Piyoa as mightily unfair, how such a man of such patience and elegance could be taken with a firebomb like her sister, but he was smitten, no doubt. Though it seemed to the girl that she was a far better match personality-wise, Iluvayen had sat her down once and explained at length his attraction to Nedra.
From that day onward, she never challenged his conviction again, even though she didn't agree with the philosophy he told her. He believed that two people of differing passions and tastes could come together if they shared enough of common thoughts and beliefs, which she was forced to admit that Nedra and Iluvayen did share that kind of closeness. For whatever reason, Iluvayen could reach into the storm of Nedra's heart and make sense of those roiling thoughts and dreams…and Piyoa knew deep in her own bosom that her sister deserved such a man, when everyone else seemed to only get what she gave to them, unable to pierce through to her inner desires. She had to choke back tears as she stumbled on…she wanted such a man, such a person that she could pour her inner feelings out to. She wanted to be able to speak of anything and everything with the man she would eventually marry. She desired nothing less than to let him know of all the hidden treasures of her soul, and have him comprehend everything, without even trying.
"Are you alright, milady? Are you feeling ill? These damp months are especially given to sickness, so if you are weary, I will understand," a baritone voice announced from in front of her, and Piyoa was forced to look up and give a wan smile to Celsiir as she waved him off. She had been surprised to see genuine concern in the paladin's eyes, his unruly white hair falling over his temples as he inclined his head to look into her face. She had an intuition that he really did feel for her, but she did not know how much he truly understood her, and she was afraid to ask. If she were to follow Iluvayen's advice…Celsiir might well prove to be a good match for her. She remembered what Iluvayen had said laughingly when she had told him of her idea that the best couples were those closely matched in nearly every way. He had told her that maybe if she relented and accepted some of the eager paladin's advances he might break her out of her shell, and she might even have some fun, even if by accident.
Today, she forced herself to take another look at the young man in question. In spite of his lack of restraint, he was not false, speaking hollow pleasantries to ensnare an unwitting mistress. He had a personal set of honor, reinforced by his dedication to Mithaniel Marr. He believed that Truth was best served by being true to himself, and to others. As a result, he lived in the moment, savoring each and every breath, each day, and took whatever chances presented themselves. With a bitter pang, she realized that in a way, she envied this ease he had. But could she release her passions without becoming as unrestrained as he? There must be some way…
As they trotted along towards the entrance to the Steamfont mountain range's entrance, Piyoa noticed that a fog was growing, patchy, seeming to come into being at random. Zephyr thin in places, and opaque as milk in others. The closer they got towards the mountains, the worse the fog swirled about them. As they cleared the pass into the Steamfont Mountains, they unexpectedly came upon a clearing in what had become a pea-soup blanket of cloud. In this bare patch crouched a gnome in a dark, sodden robe that was stained with rust, soot, and other unspeakable substances. He was trembling, a bald spot atop his head shining dully with the dampened sunlight barely piercing the mist. "Are you alright?" she found herself calling before she could restrain herself, and instantly regretted her words as the gnome turned to face them.
There was such a look of rage and loathing on his face that it stopped her in her tracks. Though seemingly young for a gnome, his face was tortured and prematurely aged by some unknown struggle in his past, and his eyes reflected this torment, but were tinged with contempt for everything around him. Reflexively she clutched at the half-moon shaped pendant hidden under her robe. Sohana had given her the pendant at nearly the same time that she had given Nedra her own, shaped like half of a sun. The governess had looked her deeply in the eye as she handed her the half-disk of silvery gem and metal. "This is no ordinary pendant, Piyoa. I once made one for my husband and kept half for myself…it will always help you to identify the other bearer, no matter what form they take, and you will always know if they are alive," the cleric had explained to the young girl in a deathly serious tone. She remembered the older woman placing a still-fine hand on the golden disk resting on her breast and stating, with a fond look on her face, "You can feel their heartbeat if you concentrate, just as they can feel yours. So long as you wear it, the two of you will always be as if you were never apart."
But even as Piyoa could feel the slow, steady heartbeat of her sister as she gripped the pendant, her own chest fluttered and pounded with apprehension at this odd sight in front of her. The gnome spoke, his voice like a rusty chain being dragged along the stone wall of a well from far in the depths, "High elves…pah! It figures…has your arrogance once again led you to preach at Ak'Akon? Don't waste your breath." There was such…weariness in his voice, as if he was long resigned to the cruelty of the world. Celsiir was unsure of how to handle this new threat, but one look at Piyoa's frightened face and his mind was set. Placing himself in front of the women, he drew himself up straight and responded in a firm voice, "That was uncalled for, sir! We do not wish to hinder you, but to pass and hunt the beasts that wander these foothills! And our people only speaks the truth to those we pass, we do not 'preach' like self-absorbed Erudites!"
Yet the gnome's expression did not change, he continued to glare at the three elves, turning fully to face them. An eerie presence billowed forth from him. Though he did not seem to be much more experienced than they, an unearthly aura seemed to surround him. With the same dry tone, the gnome spat back, "Humph, as usual, you are blind to all save what you are taught…the same old lessons, the same hollow faith that you know all there is right to the world. What gives you the right to condemn? Just because someone does not fit your narrow band of morality, the constraints of what is 'right', they are to be a pariah? Even if you don't pretend to follow that contempt, your elders have long established the tradition." Celsiir was astounded at the hurt in the gnome's voice, but steeled himself and proclaimed, "None are condemned that do not deserve to be treated as such! If they are a just person, even if they are unusual in form and belief, that should not earn them the disfavor of their fellows."
But what the paladin received for his attempts to be fair was a sneer. "Oh, but that's not true! You don't even believe it yourself; I'll bet…you're just trying to escape without angering me…as if you could avoid that, you stuck-up prat! Do you know what I received for being 'different'? Shunted down to the Mines of Malfunction! Anything deemed… 'defective' is sent there, machinery or man. As if you high elves looking down your noses at everything that moved wasn't bad enough…to be hated by your own people is worse than anything you can imagine," the gnome hissed, almost raving as he paced in front of them.
Trying to be patient, Celsiir took a deep breath, and took hold of Piyoa's hand gently, and began to move to the side as he carefully replied, "I'm truly sorry for what has transpired in your life, but we have done you no harm. You yourself are judging before knowing us, as you accuse us of! We shall impose on you no more, let us pass today, and we shall never return to these mountains." To his surprise, the gnome lifted an eyebrow appreciatively as they moved off to his side, and muttered, "Really? I think not." As the paladin edged closer to the mist, a skeletal arm swung out of the mist bearing an axe, and nearly cleaved Celsiir's head from his shoulders. "What are you playing at?" the high elven man bellowed, his patience wearing thin.
The gnome's expression continued to change, his interest had been piqued, and an amused look had replaced the sneer. "To tell you the truth, I have been waiting for someone to come along…to prove my theories. By merely refusing to allow you to pass from this spot, your prejudice will soon be revealed. Beneath the veneer of even the most genteel of gnomes, elves, and men, everyone bears a deep-seated hate for anything that differs from what they expect. And today, you shall get nothing you expect. You shall not get manners, you shall not get respect. You want passage, you shall get none…you seek order, I shall give you chaos," the gnome drawled, striding confidently in front of them.
Pushing Piyoa and Fleuyr to the center of the circle, Celsiir attempted to move back towards the entrance they had come from, only to be blocked once more by the undead figure of a skeleton, surely the servant of the bizarre gnome that blocked their retreat! Every move the paladin took towards the edge of the fog, the skeleton marauder would appear out of the mist. Celsiir tried trading blows with the creature, but was swiftly sent crashing to the ground for his trouble. Stumbling to his feet, it was clear by the flush to his face and the clenching of his jaw that the young man was frightened, angry, and frustrated. Fleuyr crept closely to Piyoa and whispered in her ear, "Though I don't want to leave Celsiir, we two can gate back to Felwithe and bring aid! The guard shall surely help us calm this gnome, or at least remove us from his wrath."
But the gnome had noticed their whispering and spoke loudly, "If you are thinking of teleporting home, forget it! I shall allow you no magic today, and for you to try shall be your death!" This threat was the final straw for Celsiir. The paladin had endured enough abuse towards himself and that of the woman he felt affection for, and stepped up close to the gnome and leveled his sword at him. "All right, you hateful goblin, we have had enough of your sick game. You shall fall faster than your servant will, and then we shall have our freedom from the jail your bitterness would impose on us!" And with a sad but satisfied look on his face, the gnome sighed and muttered, "And there it is."
Slowly, deliberately, the gnome raised his arm along the same level as Celsiir's sword, and some unknown, twisting force leapt forth from his hand. Before the paladin could drop his sword, the mysterious energy leapt up the length of the metal, warping it as it went along, and slammed into his own body. Startled, he attempted to heal himself from whatever damage the unidentified sorcery had caused. But as the blue sparks began to surround his hands, they unexpectedly blinked, spun, and began shifting colors. Unexpectedly wounds began opening and healing all over his body. The energy alternately salved these burns, or scorched his skin anew.
"Celsiir!" Fleuyr cried, and ice crystals danced around her hands as she readied an Ice Shock spell to try and aid her friend. Piyoa had been frozen to the spot when she had seen the result of the gnome's attack, but the emotion in her longtime confidant's voice startled her back to alertness. Could it be that Fleuyr…? But the gnome snickered and raised his hand again and the same energy flickered and Fleuyr's spell backfired, coating the poor woman with ice that would shatter and thaw at spots and refreeze again, blasting her with cold over and over. The gnome laughed creakily at the high elven woman's attempts to stop this spell, which succeeded barely as she reached her limit. Likewise Celsiir's oscillating, malfunctioning healing spell had finally ceased.
"Who are you! Why are you doing this?" Piyoa shrieked, the events confusing and frightening her to her core. "My name is unimportant. My goal is everything. I shall strip away this false morality that everyone hides behind…force them to recognize that which they tried to shove aside. You three are merely the test subjects for a larger, grander mission. Your friends have served their purpose, now it's your turn," the gnome told her with an acerbic grin, noting that Fleuyr had fainted, and Celsiir could barely stand. As the gnome hobbled towards her, taking the first active movement he had made since the whole ordeal began, Piyoa was filled with the desire to escape. She knew she could teleport on her own, without the need for magic, and had taken others with her. She might not be able to help both of her friends, but she had to get away, she had to try! But as she dashed towards Celsiir, whose face grew both shocked and hopeful as she drew near, the gnome's hand again stretched outwards and the writhing energy hit Piyoa's body, the shock surprising her into activating her hidden power before she wished in fright. But unlike the painless, seamless shifts in space that she had before accomplished, it felt like her entire body was being torn apart at the seams as the world faded in a haze of swirling madness and in a matter of seconds, the young wizard seemed to dissolve into sparks, her agonized scream the last thing to fade. His own pain getting the better of him, Celsiir slumped to the ground, his muscles not obeying his frantic commands as with his entire soul the young man tried to push himself towards the spot where the woman he loved had disappeared. "Piyoa!" he gasped as darkness claimed him. The gnome was genuinely surprised by the effect that his power had achieved, but shrugged, satisfied with his experiment as he hobbled off into the mist.
To be continued in Chapter Three, Lost.