Ephemeral

Three strands connect as one in this "Stargate meets Tolkien" work of fiction

The young widow
'Why,' she wondered to herself, 'Why do I feel like you're out there somewhere?'
She didn't dwell on the feeling when she was anywhere else but driving in her car alone. She didn't have time to daydream about the impossible, and she wouldn't speak of such things to anyone. Her mother had tried to encourage her to join a group for widows at their church -women and men who could relate to her. However, Esther highly doubted they awoke in the middle of the night hearing their dead spouses whispering, "I will return for you."

The prisoner
Within the deep crevices of Cair Ismene, beneath the throne room and beyond the prison, the prisoner hung from his chains like a marionette on strings, his corded arms only given reprieve to eat and relieve himself -unless, of course, it was a full moon like tonight.
For Yvaekans, a full moon meant the muses of magic were of one accord and compliant with those who sought to channel their power. Most of Yvaeka recognized a full moon with instant terror -for most who attempted to wield the elements meant more harm than good.

The Door
Through their time together, she'd learned so much about him.
She'd learned of his heritage, who he was born to be, whose blood runs through his veins and what Fate had predestined to happen -she'd also seen how effortlessly he'd bitten his thumb at anything Fate had to say. She'd learned about his wife, the one who lived in the otherworld and was the love of his life. She knew the broken pieces of him looked forward to each horrific ordeal simply because he got to look the one he loved in the eyes (the little fact it was only within their subconscious was inconsequential to him). The Door had met many a man, many a lord, many a ruler who would lay claim to her like one breaks a mustang. Her heart had never softened toward a single one -until she met the prisoner.