The End of It All

ADUST

ODFRYN slammed the rear door of the apothecary behind her. Chilled to the bone from the cold rain and her unsettling encounter with Heimir, she hurried to the room she had first spent the night in.

There, she lit a fire and stripped her wet clothes from her body, shaking and shivering. She kneeled on the floor and wrapped her arms around herself in a self-embrace, trying to shield herself from the thoughts that raced through her mind.

We shall depart. Violence for violence is the rule of kings and beasts. To forever invade; a flash, a moment. I am but a soulless soul. May the inferno come down upon us, gone with the wind we are. But not a gift; tortured.

The words Heimir had spoken to her repeated themselves over and over in an unrelenting chant. She thought she had heard them before; possibly an elven ballad, but most of the ballads sung echoed off each other.

She had seen the mage before, but only in fleeting moments; a swirl of his cloak, a lock of hair flying in the wind, his booming voice halting time. Seeing him up close was different. His disgust of anyone common; humans, dwarves, elves, etc. was obvious. But, it wasn't disgust, it was almost as if he was jealous of something, and just played it as disgust.

A log in the fire popped and crackled, sending a shock down Odfryn's spine and breaking her from her reverie. She loosened her embrace on herself and instead ran her fingers over the scars upon her back. The irregularity of the skin was soothing at times, but the cause of them was anything but.

She thought back to a truly awful moment; the day her mother and father perished in their burning cottage. She had tried to save them. She was so close to the rescue until a burning plank fell on her, knocking her unconscious.

Odfryn shuddered as gooseflesh appeared on her forearms. She rubbed the skin until the bumps disappeared and stood. With an arm covering her breasts, she scurried to the room Master Alduin had prepared for her.

There, she lit a candle near the window and turned down the blankets. She slithered into the cool material and closed her eyes, praying for her thoughts to slow and to let her mind turn to a blissful state of unconsciousness.

He stood outside of the apothecary, watching the light of a candle slowly brighten the dark room and rain pattering upon his head. A naked silhouette of a woman with long hair crawled into the turned-down bed, snuggling deep into the blankets. The candle cast haunting shadows sliced by droplets of rain upon the muddy street.

He strolled to a window with a roaring fire where he had just seen the woman crouched on the floor. Above the fireplace, he saw a painting of five men; the first four were undoubtedly related. However, the fifth bore no resemblance except a similar strong brow. His raven hair was a striking difference from the red of the others, and a strong elven facial structure was well pronounced.

At the window, he wondered if anyone would recognize him from the painting. He had aged well, beyond the image of the younger boy that mirrored him within the frame. Just like he, the sleeping woman had also dubiously studied the painting when she first arrived.

The man paused, thinking to himself, if he could ruin or completely dispose of the artwork, no one would ever piece two and two together. But how, he also thought, would he get his hands on it? Not tonight; the woman slept with blades next to her. No, he would ask the owner of the apothecary when he returned.

Odfryn awoke to the sun shining on her face. A faint mist clung to the ground outside and birds happily sang as they flew around. The room had a gold hue, a lovely sign of the new morning.

She sat up, holding the blanket to her chest and tucking a knotted lock of hair behind her ear. Furrowing her brow, she ran a hand over the mess of hair from the previous night's rain.