Diantha's Gate

9

****Aemion****

Aemion lowered himself to his knees frantically in an effort to get to her. She was wearing what appeared to be little more than her undergarments, the body of a woman barely masked in any way beneath them. Her face was also changed, angles and full lips replacing features that had haunted his dreams for twelve years.

But it was undoubtedly her.

Her hair was a mass of deep golden tangles clinging to her face, with leaves bestrewn throughout. Her chest wasn't rising and falling as it should've been, and panic gripped Aemion as he took in the bloody strip of cloth tied carelessly around her calf. He pulled her limp form towards him, digesting the lacerations and bruises that ran the length of her.

Quickly moving strands of hair from her face, he pressed his lips to hers in an urgency unlike any he'd ever known, and Aemion was certainly no stranger to urgency. For over a decade, he'd felt that every minute decision he had had to make was critical, like the world around him was hanging in the balance, and he might tip the scale at any point.

But this.... It was so unforeseen. The stars had hid their truths well, he supposed, because this was nowhere to be found in them. How she was here, he couldn't fathom, but he moved that question from his reeling mind, trying to focus solely on the task at hand.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, he again met her slightly blue lips with his own. She remained lifeless, her limbs heavy at her sides, her head flailing in his grip. She was too pale.

"Come on, Nia," Aemion huffed, as he lay her gently on the leaves and began pressing his palms into her chest, trying with his entire being to pump life into her. To breathe his own life into her lungs. "Nia..."

What could have been a lifetime later, the most insignificant rasp emitted from her throat. Aemion sat back, watching, as her body began jerking, wracked with her choking. It seemed she was drinking in oxygen too quickly, and she shakily rolled onto all fours, heaving.

He felt oxygen meet his own depleted lungs. Running his hands through his hair, Aemion remained on his knees, unable to summon strength to his legs. Eyes closed, he sucked in air, and he heard Nia's heaves evolve into dry, coarse coughs. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring at a creature he'd thought he might never again lay his eyes on. Aemion tried to accept that this might very possibly be a dream, but the notion seemed an unlikely one.

When her rasps began to regulate, she slowly sunk to her stomach before turning over to face him. His breath hitched; he had been struck dumb, completely uncertain what to say or do next.

As she looked up, Aemion saw something unidentifiable flash across her face. Her eyes had narrowed, though they still looked dazed and unfocused. Watching her intently, he could see that she was trying her best to make sense of what she was seeing, but her efforts were failing her. Her mouth gaped as though attempting to form words, and she kept shaking her head in a small, jerking motion, trying to find some clarity.

Her eyes found Aemion again, roaming the length of him, and he felt more aware of himself than ever before. Almost naked. The idea momentarily humored him.

Finally, her eyes met his, and he almost smiled to himself, finding utter familiarity in their depths. They were the deep blue orbs he'd remembered so well. Her expression remained difficult to read, but her lower lip gave her away, as it trembled ever so slightly.

She was afraid. Aemion couldn't imagine what she'd been through to get here. Based on her appearance, it had been hell.

He felt himself moving, one leg at a time, to a standing position, and she began to back away from him, the little bit of strength in her arms and legs trying to give out on her.