Written March 4th, 2021 10:07 PM

“Help them!” Ailith screamed at Ace, barely stirring in her sleeping bag. She raced past the still forms of Xiv and Talus, tearing through the tent’s opening. Why didn’t Feyra yell? What is happening? Ailith got her answer when she came face to face with a ghostly pale woman dressed in white, mouth wide open in a wail. With a curse, Ailith brought her cane swinging into the woman’s neck, watched her eyes bulge and mouth work as she was stunned for a brief moment.

Eyes adjusting to the firelight, Ailith could make out three other figures, all wandering around aimlessly, looking for a target. Just beyond the one nearest to her, she could see Feyra lying on the ground, lights hovering over her. That explained the ambush, then. Ailith rushed towards her, incapacitating the figure standing over her. She skidded to a stop at the sight in front of her.

Feyra was dead. Even Ailith could tell that Feyra’s limp form was too ashen, chest too still. The lights were dancing as they sucked the remaining essence out of her. Ailith felt something break within her, right where her heart should be. She let out a pained noise as she tore herself away, running instead to dispatch the other two figures in white. It didn’t feel right, leaving Feyra laying there alone. It was like every step Ailith took, a chain tried to yank her back, but she had to keep moving. She had to protect the rest of her friends.

Her cane struck true, the blows stunning the assailants into blessed silence. Their shrieks made Ailith’s blood run cold, the Pulse Render washing energy over her to protect her from them more than once. She didn’t know where the rest of her party was, if they were even still alive. Please. Let them be alive.

When Talus burst from the tent, Ailith sent up a thanks to whatever god might be listening. “Thank fuck,” she shouted, voice hoarse with exertion and tears she hadn’t realized were falling. When Xiv, Ashrin, and Ace joined the fray, Ailith started to think maybe they had a chance at winning this fight. All she had to do was focus on hitting the right pressure points. She couldn’t think about Feyra, lying dead mere feet away, her soul no longer in her body, potentially at the mercy of Mammon already. No, she wouldn’t think about that.

Talus dealt the final blow, the white figure falling to dust at his feet. Ailith was already gone, flying past him to Feyra. She stumbled, falling onto her hands and knees at Feyra’s side. This wasn’t right. There was no wound, no sign of an attack; Feyra could have been sleeping. Ailith took Feyra’s hand in hers, pressing it to her cheek. I can’t cause her pain if she’s dead. The thought broke her.

“Please. Please,” Ailith sobbed, voice breaking. Ace’s small hands fumbled to pull diamonds out of her bag. When did she get here? “Come back. Please, come back.” Ailith whispered the words into Feyra’s palm, the skin too cold beneath her lips. Ace finished her ritual, the familiarity of it both unsettling and oddly soothing.

Ailith watched the diamonds disappear into Feyra’s chest, waited for the inhale she knew came next. Ailith looked to Ace, blood running cold when she saw the frown on the girl’s face, her hands hovering over Feyra’s body. Ailith shook her head. No. No no no. Please, no. Ace sat back on her heels, hands dropping into her lap, tears falling from her closed eyes. A keening sound ripped out of Ailith’s throat as she dropped her head onto Feyra’s chest, her hand still clutched in Ailith’s, held against Ailith’s heart.

Feyra’s soul was claimed. She wasn’t coming back. She was gone, and Ailith was alone. How was she supposed to be without Feyra? She sobbed brokenly, body shaking so much she almost missed the movement in Feyra’s chest, the way her hand twitched in Ailith’s. Ailith’s head snapped up in time to see emerald eyes flutter open and search for her own.

Ailith let out a small cry as Feyra pulled her down into a kiss. A kiss that was hard and messy, slippery with tears, and over far too quickly as Feyra fell back, unconscious. Ailith dropped Feyra’s hand and fell backwards away from her. Ailith could hear her own hiccupping breaths, could feel her hands shaking in the dirt as she tried to ground herself in a reality that still had Feyra in it.

Gods, Ailith wanted to hold her, wanted to feel Feyra’s heartbeat against hers. It killed her that she couldn’t, but at least Feyra was here. She was alive, and that was all that mattered. Ailith repeated it over and over throughout the night until she finally fell asleep, dreams full of emerald and red.