Chapter 11 - Fragmenting

After the coronation, Ania makes a fateful decision that doesn't just affect her.

She was walking down the hallway, tired to the bone, longing for the oblivion of sleep, when he came. Just looking at him was enough to start the chain reaction inside her. It was like a drug, making her forget what was wrong. It hadn’t always been like this, originally being a childish infatuation like any other, but now it had evolve into a strange sensation that blinded her senses, hiding problems that made everything so confusing. Part of her was glad of the solace. Another part, deep, next to her heart, wanted her to stop, run, think everything through, make the decisions she needed to. But it was too late. She was already forgetting.

Skaught stood before her, cloak gone, sleeves rolled up past his elbows. She saw a strange scar on his arm, and was trying to puzzle out its meaning when he reached out, putting his perfect, pale fingers beneath her chin, raising her gaze to meet his own. She fell into his eyes, as she always did, and she just kept on falling, forever and ever…

And then she actually was falling. He caught her, his strong arms easily lifting her off her weary feet. Carrying her, cradled in his arms, out to the gardens, Skaught laid her down on a beautiful stone bench that surrounded by flowers and swaying trees. The sun had long since set, letting fireflies come out, joining the golden light of the lamps. It was so peaceful.

Skaught crouched beside the bench, sitting back on his heels as he raised a hand to stroke her cheek. The part of her that had earlier been silenced by the narcotic effect of his presence was once again active. It was screaming for her to sit up, get off the bench, get away from him because there was something wrong, something they hadn’t seen, something right there for the taking if she was just get up. It was fighting the touch, fighting the feeling that came with it. It was wrong.

But as always, that part was smothered as a larger part came to bear. It was scared, tired, angry, and miserable. It had seen the looks given to her by the women at the ball, those who knew her for what she was. Those looks of hatred, of fear. It remembered how her own mother had just let her run away without even truly trying to stop her. It now knew that her aunt, her beloved mentor, had lied to her, not told her everything to expect, not told her what would happen, not told her how everything would become so confusing. Not told her the difference between love and desperation.

But most of all, it knew not what to make of the wonderful boy who had always been there. The beautiful blue-eyed boy. The one she had pulled from the brink of insanity. Would he now pull her over? What was it that was in his eyes? Why couldn’t she figure it out?

Yes. That part was what let her sink into the narcotic oblivion that was his touch. What let her listen through a haze as Skaught began speaking.

“You know, when I first saw you, the day you came to the Compound, I thought what an intriguing person you were. You weren’t scared, and you were reaching out, bring others into your circle of calm. You were the eye of the storm in a hurricane of terror.

“But then you looked into my eyes.  It was as if you could see my soul. I saw how brave you were, how good and kind you were.” As she listened, some far distant part of her mind found this strange. What he was saying was an almost exact replica of how she had felt.

“As I saw you grow into a beautiful woman, my thoughts were constantly of you. I dreamt of you. Your ocean eyes. Your raven hair. Your moonlit skin. You’re everything a man could want. You’re beautiful. You always have been. But it’s taken me this long to realize…

“I love you.”

Ania’s head spun. She knew he was waiting for her to speak, but she didn’t know what to say. Did she love him? Could she love him? Or was this more of an addiction than a true love? She fought to remember what it was the alert part of her mind was so desperate to discover. Something…or someone…with…blue eyes…?

No. No, Skaught had brown eyes…There they were, two deep pools of night, drawing her deeper…she wasn’t sure if she could bring herself out of it…

She suddenly realized that Skaught had stopped stroking her face, and had begun caressing her arm. A movement that should have sent chills up and down her spine. Now, it just spread the narcotic sensation, making it easier to forget…

He moved closer, and soon she could fell his breath on her lips. Now the remaining part of her that had fought it faded back, not gone, but silent. She slipped completely into the sensation and was rewarded with the singularity that she had only ever felt with him.

It was with singularity of his heart, of his soul, of his love. It had one purpose, and she felt infused with it. With the simplicity of a child’s love, but the intensity of a winter storm, she felt it. It was simple. It was easy. It made her forget the pain.

Leaning towards him, she whispered, “And I love you.” And when he heard those words, Skaught move through the last bit of microscopic space between them, and their lips met.

Ania was at the center of the universe, at the center of creation. Simply put, Skaught was her world. In him, she saw night and day, truth and lie, fire and water, wind and earth, light and dark. Mortal enemies forged together, creating a single, dominant entity, and the power of that being poured into her, so that she was barely able herself leave the bench as he pulled her up in a tight embrace. She barely felt the cool night breeze. But she felt him. His lips. His arms. His powerful body, keeping the two of them standing long after the last bit of strength left her legs. She felt the power in him struggling to escape, but her calm detachment that had taken so great a hold before this moment now countered it, keeping it down. She could not have imagined any thing more amazing, more invigorating, more…more…

More simple.

And it was. Darkness. Light. Love. Everything was so simple, so clean…but still, it held more emotion than she had ever felt.

Suddenly, the part of her that had fought the drug like stupor seemed to come alive, not to fight, but to speak. You have denied purity for simplicity. A fool choice of a fool girl. Know this: you doom your own soul to misery with this act.

Ania had no idea what was going on, but soon all feeling was washed away but the next sweep of power from Skaught’s emotion.

In the back of her mind, the part that was still conscious of the rest of the world, she heard a scream, a primal, agonizing, heart-broken scream.

When Skaught walked her to her room, she didn’t notice the wilted bouquet of flowers, small white rose buds, the petals looking sad and crushed.  Nor, when she fell into bed without so much as removing her boots or even her cloak, did she notice until the morning that the ruby heart in her bracelet had shattered, a sea of hairline cracks riddling the gem. No human force was keeping it from falling from the gold heart. Nothing human could save it either.

Only time and love can fix a shattered heart.

But even that seemed impossible to Randen as he raced Maldeen mercilessly through the country. That night at the dance, he had been so sure. The way she had let him hold her, the way she had looked at him. He had found the white rose bush, her favorite, and picked twenty of the buds. Finding her easily, he had stayed back, expecting him to leave quickly, as he always did. But with every meaningless poetic word he spoke, Randen felt as if Skaught would never leave, and he would never be free of the Prince’s shadow.

But there had still been hope. Until those three words, there had still been hope. He had asked her what Randen had never been able to, said the words Randen had been dying to.

And she had said she loved him.

Whatever was left of Randen’s heart broke, and he was certain it could never be repaired.

The sound that had ripped from his throat as he ran from the scene of him holding his Ania was not human, but it ended, choked off, in a very human sob. He had let the roses slip from his hand, felt them be crushed beneath his boot as his ran. Ran away from that place, away from the Prince.

Away from his love.

He had saddled Maldeen swiftly, not listening to or even hearing the offers of aid from one of the ZämmenTrage. Thankful it was nearing midnight and the streets of the Outer Compound and the city were empty, he had ridden Maldeen harder than any but one of the prized Covenant horses could have survived.

Thundering out of the gates, Randen had turned off the road, riding out until the tall grasses touched Maldeen’s sides.

Randen let out the frustration of five years pour out of his soul, tears blinding his blue eyes. He felt the pain of every moment of ignorance, every time she was so blinded by a blazing sun she didn’t see the sparkling diamond waiting, wanting to be held.

Randen closed his eyes, felt the movement of Maldeen beneath him, felt the sharp night air sting his face, whipping the tears from his eyes almost faster than they could fall.

Suddenly, he felt Maldeen jump, clearing some unseen obstacle in their path. Randen was so unprepared for the jolting landing that he was thrown clear of the saddle, and landed hard on his left shoulder.

Struggling to his knees, Randen grabbed his upper arm, unable to bring himself to touch the already swelling shoulder. He knew he could easily have sucked the pain away, letting it out slowly as he healed the wound instead of a single sudden outburst as with most other magics. It was something he had always been able to do, and only upon entering the Knights had he learned how unique this ability was.

But not this time. This time he let the pain roll over him as he set about checking for damage. A simple scrape on the back of his shoulder was all he could see, but as he sent gold sparks of inherent magic skittering across the wound, the pain from his shoulder continued to throb.

He realized as an attempt to move the arm was met with a cascade of pain that he must have dislocated his arm, or even broken something. He set out with his golden sparks, slowly knitting bone and tendon and sinew back into place. He could have fixed it in a heartbeat, but he did it immeasurably slow. Instead of sucking all the pain at once as fuel, he siphoned off microscopic amounts, letting the return of that sensation join the already mounting pain of the injury. He allowed the physical pain to remain, mixed it with the ever more powerful pain�"that of the heart.

But physical pain has its limits, and soon Randen was left with naught but the agony of feeling in his heart.

A soul-shattering sob forced its way up his throat, erupting in a cry that sent birds shooting from their nests half a mile away.

Turning his pain heavenward, Randen let out a single cry, a single, hopeless word.”

“Why?”

Unable to hold back the torrential onslaught of emotion, Randen emptied his soul to the sky.

“Why? What did I do wrong? What sin did I commit to deserve this? I love her! Dear Gods, I always have! Since the day I met her, all I ever thought about was her. I did everything I could think of to show her. But why didn’t she see me? I was right there, always! Why couldn’t she see me?”

Randen’s voice cracked, and he crumpled to the ground, unable to hold back five years of despair.

He could no longer make his voice work, and so his tirade went on in his mind. He cursed every god he had ever heard of, but knew it meant nothing. If there really were Heavenly Beings, a Lord and Lady, loving parents and creators of all the eyes could see and more than the spirit could know, then why would they let his heart be trampled so? If there really were caring deities, why was he subject to a love that broke his heart every time he spoke to his beloved?

It wasn’t fair.

But it was there.

Randen stood, a light rain soaking his clothing and washing clear his tear-streaked face.

With new resolve, he stepped back up onto his horse, which had loyally stood by his side. Riding at a gentle gallop, Randen returned to his home, secure in the knowledge that she was there. His Ania would never love him, not in the way he loved her. But she was there. She always would be. She had to be.

Because the day she left him would be the day he ceased to be.