Summary: Laura, part III ch. 12; she knows, as surely as the rain is now falling, that they cannot win this war.
Holy Kiss
She twirled the staff with the ease of familiarity, the crystal at the top glowing with life and power. With a practiced wave, the glow sent out sparkles of light, motes that drifted onto the wound and sealed it closed as if it had never been. "Thanks," her patient called even as he plunged back into the mass of fighting at the base of the cliff.
Worried eyes followed the reckless swordsman, but the young woman knew that there was nothing she could do save continue healing those who pressed around her, struggling to keep the press of Allied forces from surging up the cliff to where Micaiah gave orders.
A terrible truth struck her as she stood, in the rain, listening to the clash of metal and the sounds of the dying: they were not going to win this war.
It was a terrible thought, and the black-haired woman wanted desperately to banish it with all of her might, but she knew, deep down, that it was true. They could not win against such overwhelming might. They should not even be fighting this war, not when they yet needed to repair their damaged country.
But Micaiah thought that this was the right thing to do. She was positive that this war could not be avoided and had to be done. So positive, in fact, that she was reverting to tactics that she had once refused to use on Begnion, whom they had all had so much more reason to hate.
The cream-clad woman swallowed, gulping down air as she wondered what could possibly be so terrible an alternative to fighting a losing war. No matter what the outcome, we will be destroyed, the brown-eyed young woman realized. Tears leaked down her face, joining the rain that drizzled down from the sky onto the day's carnage.
Abruptly angry with herself, the young cleric mentally chided, this is no time for despair! I must be at peace so that we might all live for as long as we can! The Goddess will give us a way if we can hold on for long enough!
With such thoughts in mind, she raised up her staff, eyes on her friends, and began casting magic like everything depended upon it. The tide of battle would turn, and they would manage to live another day. After that, the future would go as the Goddess willed it.
Goddess, through my staff, grant my friends life on this day!