Like I said, we write like demons when we get together. : )
Ackala had been surprisingly calm when he returned, and seemed suspicious and confused when his friend cautiously asked if he had been buzzing at all while the commander had been on the hill. The answer had been "Only a bit, for a second. Why?"
T'reth couldn't reconcile it. Eventually, he concluded that the protection of the first Oath was strong enough that he never truly had been in danger. He would like to think that Star hadn't truly intended to kill him in the first place, but… he had to admit it was a bit of a stretch. Her attitude as time passed only seemed to confirm that diagnosis.
She used to walk through the camp, to hover just in sight beyond, to speak to any brave enough to approach her and entertain the children when no adult who cared to stop her was looking. She used to show up at random points in the weeks to tell T'reth stories and teach him; how to fight, how to use the power of his ancestry, how to lead an army. She used to sit in regularly for officer's meetings. Now, it was almost as if she didn't exist unless she had something to say. And when she did have something to say, she didn't speak to them, she spoke at them and refused to hear any concerns or questions, only staying long enough to deliver her message and then gone again in the next breath.
She used to look almost normal. Before, she looked strange for certain, but not like this. Now she was dark, something that melted in and out of shadows like a demon, clawed and malevolent and eager to deal death to anyone or thing in her way. Long nights under her tutelage made T'reth want to believe that she would eventually forgive, that she would respond to his humble acquiescence and come around to be truly on their side again, rather than a slave bound by a promise she had made to someone in need, but that belief was slowly corroded away with the passage of time.
Weeks turned into months. Months turned into one year, and then two. Their movement was gaining speed, drawing people to it daily as the impoverished slaves realized that there was the possibility of being something more than what they were, the chance at a better life, a hope of freedom. The Royalists pushed back, of course, but were forced to retreat every time their Oath-Bound demon appeared on the battlefield—or more often didn't, her attention and assistance visible in gaping chasms that opened where none had been before, trees that writhed to life and fought with them, fire that sprang up between the clashing forces and smothered the land with thick, choking smoke, rivers that departed from their banks to churn the earth into beds of hungry quicksand, shadows and darkness that reached out and stole lives away like snuffing out candles.
To be sure, it scared the Royalists, but it scared the rebels, too. It took everything T'reth knew and had been taught—both in his former life as a Royalist and by the demon he'd once known as a goddess—to assure them that she wouldn't turn on them, that they could trust her to help.
They made incredible progress in those two years, but Star only became darker, more shadow than anything else as the conflict went on. A slave, he kept thinking. A slave to her word. A slave to him, in many ways, and it kept him up many nights with guilt, his mind running circles trying to figure a way out of this situation. No solution came to him, try as he might.
In the end, it was desperation that drove him out of camp on the eve of the second anniversary of the day she'd promised his demise the instant she was capable. He didn't see her, but he hoped his words were heard as he poured out his heart to the darkness, leaving behind the language of his political upbringing that served him so well in inspiring his men because he knew that only irritated her, when there was inconsistency between the words coming out of your mouth and what was in your heart.
He tried to stop himself when he realized he was only rambling, but it was somewhat cathartic for him, to ramble through the problem and his inability to fix it. He hoped saying it out loud would make the answer clearer, bring him some epiphany simply through getting it out of his head and running it past the person on the other end of this situation, silent though she may be, but it didn't. He fell silent when he finally ran out of words to describe what he felt was happening, and he sat in silence, alone in the woods, beyond even his sentries' positions in the darkness of a moonless night, until the cold reached him and he decided he wasn't getting any epiphany tonight, or even an answer from the being he thought he was talking to, and he got up and wandered his way back to his tent before dropping into his bed and passing out.
The war, for it was a war now and not just a rebellion, moved on as it had for the last two years.
It was a good two or three months before T'reth finally saw any repercussions of that night in the woods, and when they finally did come they were in the form of a child. A child that skipped up to him as he was chopping wood, and offered him a large white feather, and told him that the bright lady in the woods had asked him to give it to T'reth. He had never imagined to find an object that could be hope incarnate, but as he stroked that feather and thanked the young boy, he knew that he had found it.
A month later he heard the children telling stories of the bright lady in the forest that spoke to the trees and made the wind dance. A month after that, he saw her outside the camp, a lone sentry standing guard in a meadow blanketed by snow. A perfect five inches of snow, in fact. He wasn't brave enough that day to approach her as he had over three years ago, but when he saw her at least once a week for the next three, he decided he might be brave enough now.
Ackala jogged up next to him as he marched across camp toward the pale, wraith-like form almost lost in the surrounding whiteness. "You're not going out there alone, T'reth." He warned his soul brother, eying the shorter man sternly.
T'reth squared his shoulders, nodding. "It's best if I do, you know that. You two have never really gotten along well."
His bodyguard stepped in his way, halting him with a hand on his shoulder. "You two used to get along, but that's not how it is now, T'reth. She doesn't get along with anyone anymore."
"Except the children, it seems." He shot back.
They stood and stared at each other, entire conversations passing between them in pure body language before Ackala stepped back with a sigh.
"Fine. But I'm staying right here and watching." He grumbled unhappily, folding his arms over his chest and keeping to his word, eyes sharp as a hawk as his friend made his way across the snowy meadow.
T'reth spent the short trip calming his nerves and deciding on what he was going to say when he did reach the goddess, and had just settle on a simple 'thank you' and then a 'how are you' when he came within speaking distance. Before he could more than open his mouth, though, the wispy figure turned to him.
Her skin was still pale, but not nearly as it had been before the accidental Oath-Bond. Her hair was still bleached white, but her ears were less pointed. Her wings were a pure white as well, and the sun seemed to shimmer down the feathers like a liquid. She was bright, seeming almost to glow in the moment of sun peeking through the winter clouds. What stopped him short, though, was her eyes.
They were blue. A pale, icy blue, but they were blue, with fully formed iris' and pupils, and if it weren't for the wings she could have been human. He was still trying to reclaim his wits when she did something he had never seen her do before, leaving him speechless again; she smiled.
The next moment she was gone, and as fleeting as the moment and as small as the expression had been, it had still happened.
The next day she showed up at the officer's meeting and sat at the far end of the table. She didn't seem to have anything to say, but she listened and watched. The men weren't as open with him as they had been before, but T'reth kept the meeting on track and hoped they would get used to her again with time. She was gone before he dismissed the meeting, dashing his hopes of actually talking to her, but he was sure she would speak to him eventually, maybe even explain her sudden change in attitude…
Until then, he was glad to have the goddess back in place of the demon.
~0~
It was another month and a half before he finally got to have the conversation he was sure they still needed to have, and it came after an officer's meeting. He had dismissed his men, who had indeed begun to open up and forget her imposing presence, at least when she was silent, and the immortal had still been sitting at the end of the table. He had taken his cue and stayed where he was as well, and once the tent had emptied (Ackala threw a suspicious glance back at them and left only at T'reth's nod), the creature turned her blue eyes on him and tilted her head, indicating that he should speak.
He thought through his words for a moment. He had known this would eventually come, and he had thought long about what he wanted to say, but now that it was here the words seemed wrong. And as he always was when faced with the Goddess who saw into his mind and soul, he was left only with the words in his heart.
"I sat across a table from a goddess once." He murmured. "But she was a cold, distant being, untouchable, really."
Star turned her head slightly, but didn't say anything, her gaze sharp on him.
"I sat across from a demon, once, too, and she was as untouchable and angry as a flame, but I don't think you're either of those, ma'am. What happened to her?" he wondered.
She sat back slightly, observing him, and tucked her wings in. "She found herself in a position she did not like and could not escape and reacted with the violence of a child, a reaction unbefitting of her age and understanding. She refused, for a time, to acknowledge that, but then a mortal came to her." Her gaze seemed to pierce into his soul, seeing everything that he was, and for once he didn't shy away from that. "A Child of the Sun." she whispered. "A boy she had threatened to destroy at the first opportunity, came to her alone and guileless, and spoke to her as if to a friend. But she was no such thing, and hadn't been to anyone for a very long while and hadn't much cared to be for even longer."
Her gaze softened then, and dropped to the map on the table between them. "He made her think that she might like to be again, though." She admitted quietly. "So she decided to change, and she accepted the facts of her situation and when she paused to look again she realized a few things." Her icy blue eyes lifted to meet his again. "Your logic was not flawed, T'reth. Oath-Bonds do not form between unwilling and ignorant participants, and yet one was formed. By definition, we were thus neither. Some part of me accepted that oath. And some part of you knew how to make it." She waved a hand casually and above the table an image formed from golden light, taking the shape of a symbol almost familiar to him, too bright to look directly at and leaving sunspots on T'reth's eyes. "I thought I understood what you were, Child of the Sun, but I only saw the surface and not the depths. You are no ordinary descendant of the sun people. You are a Sha'ran."
T'reth's eyes widened as stories told in years gone by of the Sha'ran and their power and leadership bubbled up in his memory. "Me?" he breathed. "How? Sha'ran are—"
"Touched at birth by the sun god himself, yes. Only detectable by their concentration of power and when you know what to look for. I simply did not care to look." She waved her hand and the mark of the Sha'ran disappeared. "Your training will be adjusted to reflect that status."
T'reth frowned in thought, blinking the mark from his vision. "I don't see how that explains how I knew to form an Oath-Bond, though."
"Sha'ran share a special link to the source of their power. Sha'Ra is familiar with my dealings. It was through him that the Oath was formed."
The man nodded and hesitated before voicing his next question. "And still unbreakable?"
"By anything other than your death, yes." The goddess confirmed, but her mood didn't seem to change at all by the admission, and the temperature and lighting conditions were unaltered as well.
T'reth ducked his head anyway. "I still express my apologies for that, Great One."
"Your apology does not change the facts. We have more important matters to attend to. Your training is barely begun, after all."
The mortal smiled. "I look forward to it, then."
Star rose from her seat. "Good." With a lazy gesture, the table lifted from the ground and tipped itself on end against one side of the tent, out of the way, and the chairs followed suite while T'reth just stared. "We have some time to make up. On your feet, boy."
He lurched out of his unmoved chair, allowing it to join its fellows, and listened closely as his teacher spoke, thinking all the while that he was going to like this new Star quite a bit.