Things Lost and Found (a Waglington and Mianite fanfiction)

Epilogue 1/3

The song for this...not-chapter is "Worn" by Tenth Avenue North. Yes, there are going to be 3 epilogues (not necessarily because they'll be long, but because I want to stick with 1 POV per epilogue like I did with the chapters). I think you'll all like this one. ;)

*Donella's POV*

Pain, soul-rending and white hot. I pulled away from it as any wounded creature would. Whatever bound me to that torture weakened as I struggled. I was going to be free! I gave another sharp tug and felt the connection strain to snapping.

I prepared to make one last attempt when something else laid hold of me. It ached with a different pain than that which I tried to escape. It startled me enough that I dropped the tenuous connection I was about to rip apart. I instinctively knew that pain wasn't mine, and I wondered where it came from. As if in answer to my question, this "other" wrapped around me and pulled me. There was no direction here, yet I knew we were going somewhere in particular.

I didn't realize I had been somewhere dark until red light blinded me. I didn't know how cold I was until that same light warmed me. I had never missed sound so much as when I heard a familiar voice. "Come back to me," it urged. The voice had power behind it, but it beseeched rather than commanded. In all its strength it sounded broken. It sounded strange but familiar.

Familiar. A familiar? Akatena? No, Tena was gone. That remembering added a new dimension to the pain I wished to escape. I tried to turn away from the memory, but the voice held me fast, wrapped around me more, tried to comfort me. "Please..." It tugged ever so gently.

This voice wanted me to go somewhere with it. I had the feeling I would inflict similar hurt on it if I continued to wallow in my own pain and refused to go back. Back? Where was I going back to? Why had I left? With that, we were in motion again.

I started remembering more as I was tugged along. Whenever I fought against a memory, the voice was there. Its urgency increased each time it called me forward. This was definitely forward, and yet back at the same time. It didn't make any sense, but I trusted the voice. I remembered that I trusted it at some point. I tried to resist the urge to struggle from then on, and we moved faster.

Soon, I remembered all but a few pieces and almost felt like myself—except for the pain still radiating from that connection I'd never broken. I looked down at it, wondering how it had not snapped with how far I must have been dragged. It still lay right where I'd dropped it. Had we not moved at all then? I couldn't be sure. The red light was still blinding.

It surprised me when I started seeing shapes emerge from that brilliance. These shapes sparked more memories that triggered others and so on. I remembered who the voice belonged to. I could feel him grinning, his magic still wrapped tightly around me. "I was worried you'd never remember," Dianite said.

I couldn't see him. I looked around the Nether, for that was where I'd found myself (was led back to myself would be more accurate). What seemed like aimless wandering eventually brought me to Dianite's temple. Finally, I spotted my friend. He was kneeling on the netherbrick floor near his throne, facing away from the entrance. What was he so intent on? I moved to see, and felt afresh the pain. He was holding...me.

I knew what my pain was instantly. It wasn't the physical wounds, though those were bad enough. However I'd gotten back to the Realm, my landing had not been pretty. Blood and feathers decorated the ground. I still had my wings; I felt some inexplicable joy at that. It faded when I saw the blistered burn on my hand where the angel ring had melted. Scorched, bloodied, and broken as I was, those injuries might have been livable.

The soul-shattering pain I'd tried so desperately to get away from was just that. My aura had been shredded by all that magic I couldn't hold on to. It reminded me of a popped balloon. Pieces hung on in tatters, but too many were missing to make the whole again. Such an injury was undoubtedly fatal.