Severance: The Past

The Past

"Alone he rose, naked as the day he was born, from among the ashes of the fire with not but soot besmirching his unburnt skin. Silently he marched past us, as if we weren't a dozen standing before him. And silently we watched, mouths agape, as he sauntered from his still burning grave: a dead man walking.

- Rumors from Laventhian farmers

✹

The breeze caressed his skin gently with a gelid touch as he stepped out of the hall and into the night, bypassing the thin layers of his ballroom outfit and disturbing slightly a streak of hair that had fallen out of place in his pursuit. The stars were young and the sky dark, but the moon's luminescence was brilliant enough to banish many of the shadows that would otherwise haunt the streets of Cilenthia during such a late hour. The light was enough so that Saaryn was just able to catch a glimpse of the cerulean folds of her dress before they vanished around the corner into an alleyway. She giggled softly as he pursued her.

'I don't find this as amusing as you do.'

It didn't take long for Saaryn to reach the ally his quarry had taken, but when he stepped around the corner she was nowhere to be seen. She'd moved surprisingly quickly, much more so than he anticipated. She truly was insistent on leading him away from the party that had been her idea in the first place. Saaryn continued through the alley, uncomfortable in the sensation of comfort he was beginning to feel.

Cilenthia was a dangerous country full of slippery assassins and nobles whose agenda supported ill intent. Despite the country's reputation as one of elegance and dignity, criminals still roamed freely among the shadowy streets. And it was ever more so treacherous once embraced by nightfall. But against all intuition and instinct, Saaryn felt safe. He knew no harm would come to either of them tonight, as if some unseen force had reassured him of so.

So with a few long, indiscreet strides Saaryn reached the end of the alleyway where he discovered her waiting patiently for him.

She stood on the docks before a breathtaking view of the Waking Sea, the expanse of which reached beyond the night's horizon as far as the eye could see. The waters, perforated by the night, reflecting the stars and moon with a soft shimmer, were peacefully still. A lonely boat bobbed gently on the calm waves, saved from the pull of the endless stretch of sea by a single rope tethered to the port.

But none of these serene views interested Saaryn in the slightest, his undivided attention was focused rightly on her: standing alone on the dock in her ballroom dress, resplendent against her light complexion. She gazed thoughtfully towards the horizon.
Without causing sound he approached and wrapped his arms around her. She was not startled.

"Was this necessary?" He said tenderly, his voice almost a whisper.
"No." She returned his softness. "But it's more beautiful out here."
"The ball is inside, though. This is what you've always wanted."
"It's not what I thought it would be. Besides, I've always preffered the silence that solitude brings."

She reached her hands down to his and gripped them with such care, as if his fingers were glass and she might shatter them. Her hands were warm despite the coolness of the night, soft and innocent. Unlike his. They enjoyed each other's embrace for a few precious moments.

"Out here, you can't hear the pompous parlay of pretentious nobles and the strings of lutes playing the same tune for the hundredth time, over how quiet it is." She continued. Saaryn listened, she was right. Nothing disturbed the peaceful quiet by the docks.
"Besides, the silence is lovely. It's comforting to know we can be alone with our thoughts. To be by ourselves."
She ran her hands over her arms and shivered.
"If only it weren't so deathly cold."

Saaryn offered no winsome retort. Instead he pulled her closer into his presence, letting her know that he would be her warmth. Always. Neither of them uttered a word for a long while. They simply enjoyed the silence that was theirs, lost in thought. They were comforted by their loneliness.

She lifted her head from his chest. He gazed down into her eyes, they too reflected the stars. She reached up and planted a kiss, warm and delicate, on his lips.

"Let's dance, here. By ourselves. Where no one can bother us." She whispered.
Saaryn smiled. It felt strange on his face.
"Where no one can bother us."

She laid her arms on his shoulders as he brought his hands down to her waist. Saaryn, ironically he thought, despised dancing. He was a warrior, a soldier, he had served on the front line during the war. Battle was one thing, familiar to him, but dancing was another entity as foreign as the enemy he had faced: one he could happily do without. But with her in his arms, he would not complain. Not once. Her movement, on the other hand, was flawless. She had a natural talent for the art of dance that made following her lead simple. Within moments they had fallen into a leisurely, rhythmic pace, their movements like the flow of an elegant stream.

"There's a reason you were chosen for subterfuge and I wasn't." Saaryn told her. 
"It takes practice, love, an abhorrent amount of practice. But we have time, now that the war is over." She spoke reassuringly. "Now hush. Let's enjoy the silence."

And so they did, moving along the dock in their noiseless dance, spinning placidly and taking pleasure in the presence and warmth of the other. She laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes, and he smiled. He wished to stay here forever, in this moment, in the light of the moon. By the ocean, in the arms of the love of his life, listening to the serene lapping of waves as they brushed against the dock. It was as if time itself had stopped just for them with the promise of never turning it's wheel again. Saaryn wouldn't mind. He would dance for eternity with her. Right then, everything was perfect.

Too perfect.

"You know, Crow, I think it's fitting." The silence parted to the sound of her voice. She raised her head and looked up at him once more. "The name they've christened you with. It suits you."
Saaryn's brow narrowed with confusion.
"What do you mean?"
She smiled as if the answer were obvious.
"The Unburned."

The smell of smoke invaded his nose, making his eyes water. That was the first change he noticed. Next came the roaring sound of hungry flames, the snapping and popping of wood as the fire devoured it fervently. A gust of heat, ungentle and minacious, slammed into his face, stealing away his breath. He tore his eyes away from her.

Where once they danced on a silent dock next to placid water, they now stood amidst a burning stable, empty of everything but them and the flames that glowed rufescent and orange, laughing as it crawled closer. Smoke filled his lungs. A support beam came screaming down, crashing into the ground and spitting embers in every direction.

“We need to le-” Saaryn looked back towards his companion and recoiled at the sight of her. She stood several feet from him now, her pale cheeks stained with mascara as black tears fell from her eyes. Eyes that once shone sapphire now encapsulated by a deep, demonic, sanguine glow. 

“You betrayed me.” She spoke calmly, quietly, but even as the fire howled around them Saaryn understood her clearly. “You betrayed us. Your family. You let them die.”
“No! That’s not what happened!” He tried to reach for her, but his arms refused to obey. He struggled to move, fighting against invisible restraints. He was paralyzed.

It was magic. Her magic. 

“We, all of us, we only had each other in this world. We were family. And you let them die. You abandoned them."
 
The flames nipped at his feet. 

I would never!, he tried to plead, but his lips did not move. He could not cry out in pain as the fire crawled up his legs, digging its way into his flesh. 

“You should have stayed dead.” 

He struggled. Pushed against the spell with every ounce of strength he could muster. But the fire only continued to engulf him.
He was alone now. She had vanished in the flames. He stopped fighting. He gave in. He was alone. 

The fire swallowed him, his vision turned orange and red, the pain was worse than any he had experienced. But he did not fight it, even as his skin was burned to ash. He was going to die. He called out one last time, but his voice was not but a whisper. The only thing that escaped his lips before death embraced him with icy hands was a name. Her name.

“Valesra.”

And he fell into blackness.