Respite

From Dirt Grows The Flowers (Part III)

She had waited for this moment. She had waited for so very long. But she never thought it would turn out like this. Not once. Not ever.

Up until her early years as a young adult, Aya had spent most of her waking hours training relentlessly in order to prepare herself for a war she hoped would never come to pass.

Like so many aspects of her life, that had turned out to be yet another disappointment.

She had honed her abilities and perfected her control over mana to the point where it came as naturally to her as breathing.

With the help of the artifacts bestowed by the council, she had become so proficient that no one else could come close when it came to her elemental deviation.

She was nothing if not her kingdom's best.

But for all her power and strengths, it mattered little in a situation like this.

Because even though Aya was able create illusions, erase her presence, and even manipulate the air in another person's lungs, right now, she herself could barely draw breath.

"Alea didn't make it."

The words cut right to her core. Sharp and jagged, like pieces of broken glass.

Varay had personally waited for her at the base of the floating castle upon her return. Aya had felt her chest tighten at the sight of her. Few things were important enough to warrant a private meeting with her. Few things were necessary enough for her to deliver the news in person.

Now, she understood why.

It had been direct and to the point. Aya honestly preferred it that way. It was like a quick death given by an executioner in that sense. Although, death was looking like a far more appealing alternative.

Varay was impassive, delivering each cut without hesitation or preamble.

"Bairon and Mica found her body at the bottom of the dungeon along with her battalion."

Sound travelled through the air by vibrations. Aya knew the exact amount of pressure that was needed to make it deadly, and the right frequency required to affect a person however she wanted. She knew this better than anyone.

Despite it all, this was the first time she had experienced what it was like to become unravelled by the waves of her own undoing. She felt torn, like half of her had been ripped apart into shreds.

A high-pitched ringing reverberated in her ears and she felt the momentary loss of balance that accompanied her unstable bearing. She could taste blood on her lips and bile rising up her throat.

She had never felt so much dread since the day she lost her family.

"Why..."

Aya lowered her head and dug her nails into her palms. Her voice was low and lifeless. Devoid of all emotion.

"The Director claimed that one of her students stumbled upon the scene during a routine excursion. We'll have to—"

"Why did you let her go alone?"

The question made Varay pause.

"Why did you give her the order?"

Aya had felt helpless once. Completely and utterly powerless in the face of devastation. But that was then. And this is now.

Gales rolled across her body, and her hair billowed wildly. The clouds swirled and twisted around them. The pressure plummeted.

"I asked her if she was ready and she insisted," Varay said. "She made the call herself."

"You sent her to her death!"

Aya's screech was like thunder in the wind. She had never raised her voice at anyone before. Not at her enemies. And not at her allies.

"I made a decision for the sake of Dicathen and Alea did what her title demanded of her. I told her the risks and she knew what was at stake."

"And yet you allowed her to go by herself instead of sending someone with her?"

Aya snarled and bared her teeth.

Varay narrowed her eyes and huffed.

"We all have our roles and responsibilities. Do you expect me to keep coddling her while you're constantly holding her hand?"

"What did you say?"

"If Alea couldn't even take care of herself, then maybe she shouldn't have become a—"

A loud resounding slap pierced the cold, dry air. And in its wake, silence.

Aya saw Varay's head spin to the side. She felt her hand sting and idly noticed it had been raised. But she didn't care.

"Say it. I dare you."

Varay slowly turned her head at her, unfazed. Coldly, she said, "Maybe you shouldn't have become one either."

There was a shift.

Aya felt chills all around her. It surrounded her senses, dulled it like an anaesthetic. She felt numb on the outside. But deep in her core, she was burning. Burning as hot as the flames that ruined her home.

Varay noticed it a second later. The negative pressure. The stillness of her lungs.

The lack of air.

Her hand came to her throat by instinct. Her fingers pushed against the skin as if to dislodge whatever was blocking it. But it was no use.

She soon realized that her life hung precariously at the mercy of another person's hands. She was dangling, and her feet did not reach solid ground.

It wouldn't take long. All Aya had to do was wait a little longer. Only a little more.

Fear flashed in Varay's eyes. Pure, primal. There was panic. Desperation. Then, acceptance.

Her vision swam and she saw darkness growing closer in her periphery. She was almost at her limit.

Aya had carried with her the weight of an entire village—the lives of her people whom she had fled from and forsaken.

They had taken so much. They had taken everything. But then, they had deprived her of the only person in the world who had shouldered that weight with her.

Now, it fell solely on her shoulders, and hers alone.

Aya felt herself come undone.

Tears streamed unbidden down her face. The heat subsided. She felt a calm mellow breeze. Her arm dropped to its side. She let it go. She let everything go.

Varay collapsed to her knees gasping.

She looked up. Aya was gone.