I have returned. Chloe POV
I woke up surprisingly quickly, expecting to feel groggy or tired after such a vivid dream. As I shifted, I grimaced, feeling my body protest with creaks. It seemed I had been in the same uncomfortable position for quite a long time. Blinking in pain, I tried to turn toward the faint sound of my name being whispered.
"Haldamire?" I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper, and immediately started coughing.
"Drink slowly," she demanded, almost running towards me with a cup of water that sloshed over the rim.
"Where...?" I choked out, reaching out for the cup.
"I have no idea," she whispered, her trembling becoming apparent as my eyes adjusted to the dim firelight.
"What happened?" I managed to ask after taking a few sips of water.
"I don't know how to explain it, but I allowed Tar-Mairon into my mind," she said, her voice filled with panic as she gripped her head and looked around. I peered at her intently, continuing to sip slowly.
"What does that mean?" I finally inquired.
"I don't exactly know, but it's strange. It's not like he's physically present, but I let him witness certain things, and now I feel off in my mind, like I'm forgetting things. And sometimes, I swear I can hear him whispering things to me, influencing me," she poured out, clearly upset.
"Hold on, what exactly do you mean by whispering things and influencing you? Does Langon's presence in my dream mean he can do the same?" I wondered aloud, disregarding her panic for a moment.
"No, it doesn't work that way. I had to give explicit permission for this to happen. Besides, I suspect this might go beyond Langon," she replied, glancing nervously over her shoulder at one of the torches. I couldn't fully agree with her assessment, considering Langon appeared in my dream and convinced me to agree to something questionable.
"What exactly did you allow him to witness?" I inquired, setting aside my questions about Langon's abilities for the moment. She hesitated, her eyes welling up with tears.
"Weapons and things," she finally admitted, her voice filled with sorrow.
"What kind of weapons?" I raised an eyebrow, curious about the specifics.
"Guns and stuff," tears dripped down her face. "I started contemplating different wars and weapons, but I believe Tar-Mairon intentionally disrupted my thought process. I couldn't recall things, and now it feels like I can barely remember where we're from. I can't even tell you what specific weapons I was thinking about, just that I was beginning to think about them, and now I feel frustrated that I can't remember something I know I should know."
"What does that mean? It's pointless to ask you what you forgot, but can you provide more explanation?" I asked, feeling utterly bewildered. Was she suggesting that Tar-Mairon erased her memories of wars and weapons beyond guns? And if so, why would he do such a thing? She shook her head sadly, and I felt a surge of frustration.
"It hurt, Airawende. I love Tar-Mairon, but it hurt. Even if it was to protect me from their Master. It's a pain that goes beyond the physical and tangible," she whimpered. I wanted to grimace at her choice of words. Why "love"? It seemed she would do anything Tar-Mairon asked of her, even if it meant causing harm. Instead of responding, I took another sip of water, trying to process everything.
"How did we end up here together?" I finally asked, as her tears began to subside.
"Tar-Mairon brought me here after healing my physical injuries," she responded, rubbing her eyes. "You arrived a few hours ago. Langon carried you and told me that if you woke up, I should give you water. But if not..." She trailed off, looking desolate.
"If not what?" I asked, a sense of unease settling over me.
"If not, then I was supposed to kill you before you starved to death in your sleep," she said, her voice quivering. Her words filled me with outrage, and I flung the empty cup against the wall in anger.
"How could they ask you to do something like that? They must have known you couldn't do it," I snapped angrily, immediately regretting the loss of the water. I looked at her, and she seemed to shrink back under my gaze.
"You could never do it, right, Haldamire?" I asked, a sudden tightness gripping my chest as she remained silent. "Haldamire?" I called out softly. She shook her head, backing away, but the silence between us spoke volumes until she finally spoke up.
"It would have been kinder," she squeaked, her voice filled with pain. "So you wouldn't have to slowly starve to death, fading away into nothingness."
"Haldamire," I choked out, feeling my own tears welling up to match hers.
"I almost wanted to, after Langon told me what you had to agree to in order to wake up," she continued, her voice rising. "So you wouldn't have to make any choices."
I turned away from her, closing my eyes, overwhelmed by a flood of emotions.