get well gift

This had been her favorite place. Here, they had first met, and later, fallen in love. It was an unusual encounter, and an even more unusual match. He, scarred and coarse, set in his ways, bound to the Path and the Path alone, and his faith in humanity rapidly deteriorating. He had been younger then, yes, but he was not a creature of change, and even after all these years, he could not say he had changed much more than when he had loved the woman with the raven hair. And she, a sorceress, priestess, enchantress. Proud and unapologetic as a magnificent, raging thunderstorm; such was her unpredictable, unyielding nature. She did not apologize for who she was, or what she was, and he supposed he saw something of that in himself, too. They had tampered with the forbidden here, she driven by greed and an insatiable lust for power, and he, well, his motives weren’t entirely pure either, although he desired something other than power. He had never encountered such a woman, and already he found himself unable to resist her, enchanted by her passion, her unwavering intensity. And so together in the unending twilight of the sea glass caves, they had released something dark and twisted, unleashing a Fate that had intentions of its own, and it had made its will known, binding them together.  He was unable to think of anyone else, save her, and though they defied the Binding for many years and sought the company of others, they would always wind up in each others embrace once again. It was a curse, she had said. He now wondered, many years later, if she was right. The portal had brought him home. His first thoughts were of her, and how they had left things…how he had left her. It had been one of the happiest times they had ever had together and he had ruined everything. The cost was a heavy price, of that he was certain. He did not know if she lived or died in the aftermath of the great disruption, the first portal to Helovia. The battle of gods and mortals. How foolish was he, to be caught up in the affairs of those he despised. He had awoken in another land, another dimension, wondering if he would ever see her again, but knowing in his heart that he would not and he had no one but himself to blame. And yet, he returned to their place. It was as if he visited a beautiful, fleeting memory preserved in time; he could almost feel dampness of the sea on her skin, smell the sage in her raven hair. But the corruption of the Rift had found its way here, tainting and staining everything in its wake. The sea glass shifting beneath his hooves seemed less vibrant, as if the darkness of the Rift had managed to leach what little light remained. Veins of shadow threaded through the crystal walls, and eerie, floating balls of light haunted the silent beach. The silence was as he remembered, the stillness, as if you could shatter the crystal with a mere whisper. And then he saw her. His breath caught in his throat, afraid that any sort of movement would shatter the illusion he saw before him. She wandered slowly across the beach, as if she had been waiting for him a long time. Her black cape trailed behind her like a veil of shadow, and her wings, raven black and glistening…and yet, something seemed…off. Her wandering seemed aimless and lost; she did not carry herself like the queen she had always thought herself to be. The woman he had known had never been without purpose—she was a creature of ambition, every waking moment spent planning, plotting, and every movement was precise with efficiency. He released his breath. It was not her. The markings were wrong, her eyes were wrong. Everything was wrong. Of course it was not her.  He realized he was staring, and they were now separated only by a short distance. “I’m sorry,” he said roughly, pulling himself together, otherwise fearing that this overwhelming sense of numbness would consume him. He wondered if he would ever feel anything again. “I thought you were…someone else."

@Weaver