Chronicle 2
The cell was cold.
Not cruelly cold.
Not a dungeon.
Just cold enough to ensure nobody forgot where they were.
Armintie lay upon the narrow cot.
The black robe remained wrapped around her shoulders.
A small lantern burned outside the bars.
Its light flickered across the stone walls.
Guards came and went throughout the night.
The rotations were routine.
One arrived.
Another departed.
Hours passed.
None of them spoke to her.
Armintie never spoke to them.
There was nothing left to say.
The first few hours she spent staring at the ceiling.
The next few staring at the wall.
Eventually she closed her eyes.
Sleep refused to come.
Every time she drifted toward it, another thought dragged
her back.
Tomorrow.
The word haunted her.
Tomorrow she would leave.
Tomorrow she would cease to be part of the Blue Shield.
Tomorrow she would have no home.
No family.
No friends.
No destination.
No plan.
Just a day's food.
A day's water.
...and a mountain range.
The uncertainty was worse than the fear.
At least fear had shape.
Fear could be understood.
This was different.
This was a blank page.
A future so empty she could not imagine it.
For perhaps the first time in her life, Armintie wished
someone would tell her what to do.
No answer came.
Only silence.
...and the slow passage of the night.
Elsewhere, the Council cabin was quiet.
A fire burned in the hearth.
Three bowls sat upon a wooden table.
The food was simple.
Stew.
Bread.
Hot tea.
Nobody seemed interested in any of it.
Zasaramel sat at one end of the table.
Phoebe sat opposite him.
Arel-Sin occupied the seat between them.
The room felt strangely large.
As though someone important was missing.
For several minutes only spoons moved.
Nobody spoke.
The silence stretched.
Longer.
Longer still.
Eventually Arel-Sin looked up.
His eyes moved toward the empty corner where Armintie
usually sat.
Then toward his father.
"Is she really gone?"
The question hung in the air.
Phoebe immediately lowered her head.
Zas placed his spoon down.
"Tomorrow."
Arel-Sin nodded slowly.
Absorbing the answer.
The boy stared at his bowl.
"I thought you were going to kill her."
Phoebe's hand tightened around her spoon.
The room became even quieter.
"So did I," Zas admitted.
Phoebe abruptly stood.
Her chair scraped loudly against the floor.
Neither male spoke.
Everyone understood why.
Phoebe's eyes were red.
She had spent most of dinner fighting tears.
Now she was losing.
Without a word she moved toward the door.
"Phoebe."
Zas's voice was calm.
She did not stop.
"Phoebe."
Still she continued walking.
The door opened.
Cold air rushed inside.
"Stop."
This time the command carried authority.
Phoebe paused.
For one brief moment it seemed she might obey.
Instead she left.
The door slammed behind her.
The cabin shook.
Silence returned.
Arel-Sin stared at the closed door.
Then at his father.
Then back at the door.
The boy seemed smaller than usual.
Younger.
More uncertain.
The fire crackled softly.
Finally he asked:
"Is my family gone?"
The question struck harder than any accusation.
Zas looked at his son.
Arel-Sin's eyes remained fixed upon him.
Waiting.
Not for a warrior's answer.
Not for a leader's answer.
A child's answer.
One that Zasaramel did not immediately possess.
For the first time that evening, he found himself
speechless.
The fire continued to burn.
...and outside, somewhere in the darkness, one daughter
wept.
While another waited for exile.
The bonfire had grown smaller.
Most of the Council had long since gone to bed.
Only a few embers remained alive beneath the ash.
Phoebe sat alone beside them.
The black waters of Daral Lake stretched into the darkness.
The ice near the shoreline reflected the moonlight.
Everything was quiet.
Too quiet.
Her hands remained buried inside her cloak.
Clutching a folded piece of parchment.
The paper was worn.
Soft at the edges.
Years old.
Phoebe slowly unfolded it.
She did not need to read it.
She already knew every word.
The letter had never been delivered.
Never intended to be.
At least not at first.
She had written it years ago.
After one argument.
Then another.
Then another.
Each time she had felt unheard.
Misunderstood.
Controlled.
The letter had become a place to store those feelings.
A secret.
A promise.
One day, if she ever decided to leave, she would give it to
him.
One day, he would finally know everything she had never
dared say aloud.
Every frustration.
Every resentment.
Every disappointment.
Every moment she had felt more like a soldier than a
daughter.
Phoebe stared at the folded pages.
Then back at the lake.
The wind whispered across the ice.
She imagined herself walking out there.
Just walking.
Far enough.
Long enough.
Until the cold took everything away.
No more arguments.
No more pain.
No more choices.
The thought lingered.
Not because she wanted it.
Because she was tired.
So very tired.
Her eyes burned.
Her chest hurt.
Everything hurt.
The lake offered silence.
An ending.
A way to stop feeling.
Phoebe lowered her head.
Then another thought arrived.
Simple.
Unavoidable.
Armintie.
Phoebe closed her eyes.
Tomorrow her friend would leave.
Tomorrow she would vanish into a world neither of them
understood.
Perhaps they would never meet again.
Perhaps the mountains would swallow her.
Perhaps another village would take her in.
Perhaps she would cross half the continent.
Phoebe did not know.
Nobody did.
...but there was still a chance.
A possibility.
A future.
Somewhere beyond the horizon.
Somewhere beyond the mountains.
A day might come when they crossed paths again.
A day when Armintie would laugh at some stupid joke.
A day when they would sit beside another fire.
A day when they would remember this night and wonder how
they survived it.
If Phoebe died tonight- that future disappeared
forever.
Not became unlikely.
Impossible.
The door would close.
Permanently.
Phoebe looked out across the frozen lake.
For the first time all evening, she realized something.
She did not want an ending.
She wanted a chance.
No matter how small.
No matter how distant.
No matter how impossible it seemed.
She wanted the possibility of seeing Armintie again.
Slowly, Phoebe folded the letter.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
Then she slipped it back inside her robe.
The wind continued to blow across the lake.
The night remained cold.
The future remained uncertain.
...but for the first time since the Council ended, Phoebe
knew one thing with absolute certainty.
She was not ready to say goodbye.
Not yet.
The guards arrived before sunrise.
Armintie had not slept.
Perhaps she had drifted off for a few minutes at some point.
If she had, she did not remember it.
The cell door opened.
A blast of cold air entered.
"Up."
The command was immediate.
One of the guards rapped the bars with the butt of his
spear.
"We're leaving."
Armintie blinked.
The world felt distant.
Unreal.
She pushed herself upright.
Every muscle protested.
The black robe hung loosely from her shoulders.
The guard did not offer sympathy.
Did not offer patience.
Did not offer time.
"Move."
Armintie obeyed.
What else was there to do?
The process had already been explained.
A day's food.
A day's water.
A horse.
A long ride.
Then wilderness.
After that, her life ceased to be anyone else's concern.
The thought felt impossible.
Yet morning had arrived regardless.
Outside, the village was beginning to wake.
Smoke rose from chimneys.
People moved through the snow.
Most avoided looking at her.
The few who did quickly looked away.
Armintie felt like a ghost.
Already gone.
Elsewhere, Phoebe stood in front of the cabin door.
Tears streamed down her face.
She no longer cared.
Her eyes were swollen.
Her voice raw.
"Dad, please."
Zasaramel continued checking the straps on his travel pack.
"Please."
No answer.
Phoebe stepped closer.
"I just want to say goodbye."
Zas tightened another strap.
The silence infuriated her.
"Please."
Her voice cracked.
"Just once."
At last he looked up.
His expression remained unreadable.
"No."
The answer hit her harder than she expected.
"Why?"
No answer.
"Why?"
Phoebe's voice rose.
"She's leaving!"
Still nothing.
"She might die out there!"
Zas remained motionless.
Phoebe wiped tears from her face.
"You let the entire Council speak to her."
"Everyone."
"The Elder."
"The Watchers."
"The guards."
"You let everyone talk to her except me."
A flicker crossed Zas' face.
Gone almost immediately.
"No."
Phoebe stared at him.
Unable to believe what she was hearing.
"I just want to say goodbye."
"No."
The answer was identical.
Cold.
Final.
Because Zasaramel knew something he would never admit aloud.
If Phoebe saw Armintie again-
if she heard her voice-
if she looked into her eyes-
-she might make a choice he could not stop.
So he closed the door instead.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
The same way he had during the Council.
The same way he always did.
Phoebe's shoulders trembled.
For several seconds she simply stood there.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Praying he would change his mind.
He did not.
Eventually he turned away.
The conversation was over.
At least in his mind.
The door closed behind him.
Phoebe remained standing in the hallway.
Alone.
The tears came harder now.
She slid slowly to her knees.
The rough wooden floor pressed against her legs.
She barely noticed.
A sob escaped her.
Then another.
Then another.
Her hands moved instinctively inside her robe.
Finding the folded letter.
The old letter.
The one she had carried for years.
The goodbye she had written long before today.
Phoebe gripped it tightly.
The parchment crumpled in her fist.
The pain remained.
The anger remained.
The grief remained.
...but something else had changed.
A decision.
Not fully formed.
Not yet spoken aloud.
...but real.
For years the letter had represented a possibility.
A future she never truly believed would come.
Now it felt different.
Now it felt necessary.
Phoebe lowered her head.
The tears continued falling.
Yet beneath the grief something else was growing.
Resolve.
Her father believed this would end today.
He believed Armintie would leave.
...and life would continue.
Phoebe knew better.
Because somewhere between the Council.
...and the bonfire.
...and the lake.
...and this moment on the floor-
-she had already made her choice.
Zasaramel simply did not know it yet.
The journey began shortly after sunrise.
Six riders.
One prisoner.
No ceremony.
No farewell.
The gates opened.
The convoy departed.
The gates closed behind them.
Armintie never looked back.
Not because she was brave.
Because she was afraid that if she looked at the village one
last time, she would break.
The black robe offered little warmth against the mountain
wind.
A chain connected her to Zasaramel's saddle.
Not because anyone expected her to escape.
The chain was symbolic.
A final reminder that she remained under the authority of
the Blue Shield until the sentence was completed.
Armintie sat behind Zas.
Neither touched the other.
Neither spoke.
The horse's hooves crunched through snow.
Hour after hour.
The mountains passed around them.
White peaks.
Frozen forests.
Silent valleys.
The landscape felt unfamiliar.
Though she had lived in the Daral Valley for years, she had
never travelled this far from home.
Home.
The word hurt.
Armintie tried not to think about it.
She failed.
Every few minutes another memory surfaced.
Phoebe laughing.
Arel-Sin asking endless questions.
The Council cabin.
Summer at Daral Lake.
Training fields.
Campfires.
Stories.
Family.
No.
Former family.
The correction felt like a knife.
She glanced toward Zas's back.
The broad shoulders.
The familiar posture.
The man who had rescued her.
The man who had taught her.
The man who had carried her home after nightmares.
The man who had nearly cut her head off yesterday.
Armintie looked away.
The journey continued.
Nobody spoke unless absolutely necessary.
A warning about ice.
A direction.
A brief order.
Nothing more.
The silence became another passenger riding alongside them.
At first Armintie felt angry.
Then frightened.
Then numb.
Then angry again.
The emotions chased one another in circles.
By midday she had stopped trying to understand them.
Eventually the convoy reached a narrow valley.
The mountains seemed higher here.
Closer.
More hostile.
The wind howled between stone cliffs.
The lead rider raised a hand.
The convoy stopped.
This was it.
Armintie's stomach tightened immediately.
The chain was removed.
The sound of metal links hitting the snow seemed impossibly
loud.
She climbed down from the horse.
Nobody helped her.
Nobody offered a hand.
The cold struck immediately.
The riders dismounted.
One of them retrieved a small pack.
A waterskin.
A blanket.
Food.
Not much.
Just enough.
Exactly what the sentence required.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
The guard handed them over.
Not unkindly.
Not kindly.
Mechanically.
Like completing paperwork.
Armintie accepted the bundle.
The wind tugged at her black robe.
She looked around.
Nothing.
Mountains.
Snow.
Trees.
The occasional distant ridge.
No village.
No road.
No signpost.
No indication of where she should go.
The realization hit her all at once.
Nobody was going to tell her.
That was part of the punishment.
The uncertainty.
The loneliness.
The complete absence of guidance.
For the first time since the Council, genuine panic began to
creep into her chest.
Where was she supposed to go?
How far was the nearest settlement?
Which direction was safe?
Which direction meant death?
Nobody answered.
Nobody intended to.
Armintie turned toward Zasaramel.
At last.
Surely now.
Surely after all these years.
He would say something.
Anything.
A warning.
A lesson.
A final piece of advice.
A goodbye.
She waited.
The wind blew between them.
Zas looked at her.
His expression revealed nothing.
Seconds passed.
Then more.
Armintie continued waiting.
The silence stretched.
Longer.
Longer.
Eventually she understood.
There would be no final conversation.
No final lesson.
No final kindness.
No final cruelty either.
Nothing.
Just emptiness.
The same man who had once called her family now stood before
her as though she were a stranger.
The realization hurt more than the sentence itself.
More than the cold.
More than the fear.
More than the uncertainty.
Because uncertainty could be survived.
This felt permanent.
Finally Zas turned away.
He mounted his horse.
The others followed.
No orders.
No farewell.
The convoy began moving.
Armintie stood motionless.
Watching.
Waiting.
Still hoping.
Perhaps he would look back.
Perhaps at the last second he would say something.
Anything.
He did not.
The riders disappeared between the trees.
...and just like that—
the years were over.
Armintie stood alone in the wilderness.
A small pack in her hands.
A black robe on her shoulders.
...and no idea where to go next.
The bag was already packed.
Phoebe had checked it three times.
Then four.
Then five.
Food.
Water.
Blanket.
Extra clothing.
The letter.
Especially the letter.
The folded parchment rested safely inside her robe.
Waiting.
Years of anger pressed into a handful of pages.
The goodbye she had always promised herself she would
deliver.
The goodbye she never truly believed she would need.
Now it felt heavier than everything else she carried
combined.
Phoebe inhaled slowly.
This was it.
She had made her decision.
Armintie was gone.
The valley no longer felt like home.
Nothing remained except the final step.
She walked toward the door.
One step.
Then another.
Her hand reached for the handle.
"Phoebe?"
The voice froze her instantly.
She turned.
Arel-Sin stood in the hallway.
Still wearing his sleeping clothes.
His hair a complete mess.
His eyes half awake.
He looked confused.
Concerned.
Afraid.
For a moment neither spoke.
Then Phoebe broke.
The bag slipped from her shoulder.
She crossed the distance between them.
…and collapsed into him.
Sobbing.
The force of it nearly knocked him over.
Arel-Sin stood frozen.
Completely overwhelmed.
He did not understand.
Not really.
He only knew his sister was hurting.
So he wrapped his arms around her.
Awkwardly.
Unsure.
Doing the only thing he could think to do.
"It's okay," he whispered.
Though he clearly had no idea whether it was true.
Phoebe cried harder.
The bag remained abandoned beside the door.
The letter remained hidden.
…and when the sun rose, she was still there.
The same thing happened again a week later.
…and again.
…and again.
Each attempt followed the same pattern.
Phoebe would spend hours convincing herself.
This was the day.
This time she would do it.
She would leave.
She would find Armintie.
She would finally choose her own path.
The bag would be packed.
The letter ready.
The destination imagined.
Her courage would build.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Until it felt possible.
Then something would happen.
Arel-Sin would smile at her.
Zas would call her name.
The winter wind would rush through an open doorway.
A memory would surface.
A doubt would emerge.
Fear would take hold.
The courage would evaporate.
...and Phoebe would retreat.
Every time.
Back down the hallway.
Back into her room.
Back onto her bed.
Back into tears.
Weeks passed this way.
A strange existence.
No longer staying.
Not yet leaving.
Living between two decisions.
The packed bag never fully unpacked.
The letter never delivered.
The dream never abandoned.
Phoebe hated herself for it.
Every day Armintie moved farther away.
Every day the trail grew colder.
Every day the chance of finding her became smaller.
Yet every morning Phoebe woke and told herself:
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow would be different.
Tomorrow she would finally leave.
Tomorrow she would find the courage.
Tomorrow she would stop being afraid.
Then tomorrow would become another today.
...and the cycle would begin again.
Until eventually one realization began to haunt her.
Perhaps the hardest journeys were not the ones across
mountains.
Perhaps the hardest journey was crossing a single doorway
and never coming back.
The first day alone was the worst day of Armintie's life.
At least that was what she told herself.
The second day threatened to challenge it.
The mountains seemed endless.
Every ridge revealed another ridge.
Every valley opened into another valley.
The wilderness did not care that she had been exiled.
It did not care that she was frightened.
It did not care that she had nowhere to go.
It simply existed.
Cold.
Indifferent.
Ancient.
Armintie walked.
That was all she knew how to do.
Walk.
One foot.
Then the other.
Then repeat.
Whenever uncertainty threatened to overwhelm her, she
searched her memory for lessons.
Zas had taught her things.
The Blue Shield had taught her things.
Find shelter before sunset.
Follow water whenever possible.
Never eat a plant unless you are certain.
Preserve your strength.
Avoid unnecessary risks.
The lessons were there.
Scattered throughout her mind.
Fragments.
Pieces.
Half-remembered conversations.
The problem was that she had never expected to use them.
Not truly.
As a child she had listened because she was supposed to
listen.
She had practiced because everyone practiced.
...but somewhere deep inside she had always assumed there
would be someone nearby.
Someone older.
Someone wiser.
Someone to ask.
Now there wasn't.
...and every lesson she managed to remember carried another
wound.
Because she remembered where it came from.
A campfire.
A training field.
A summer afternoon.
Zas's voice.
Phoebe laughing.
Arel-Sin asking stupid questions.
The memories hurt.
Sometimes more than the hunger.
By the second evening her food was already running low.
Armintie tried stretching the rations.
Smaller portions.
Less water.
She supplemented what she could.
Roots.
Berries.
A handful of edible mushrooms.
The mushroom lesson had always been one of her favourites.
Mostly because she liked mushrooms.
For once that childish preference paid off.
The extra food helped.
Not much.
Enough.
One afternoon she spotted movement among the trees.
Armintie immediately crouched.
A wild boar.
Large.
Healthy.
Alive.
Her stomach tightened.
She could almost taste it.
The thought shocked her.
She had never hunted before.
Never wanted to.
Animals had always been creatures she observed.
Not food.
Yet hunger was changing things.
The boar represented warmth.
Strength.
Survival.
For several moments she seriously considered it.
Then reality intervened.
She had no hunting knife.
No spear.
No bow.
No trap.
Nothing.
The boar snorted.
Turned.
...and wandered away.
Armintie watched it disappear.
Then laughed bitterly.
Even if she had somehow killed it, she had no idea what to
do afterward.
The wilderness was exposing every gap in her education.
Every assumption.
Every weakness.
She resumed walking.
The mountains swallowed the boar.
...and the opportunity.
As evening approached, exhaustion settled into her bones.
She needed sleep.
That much she knew.
Shelter first.
Then rest.
Eventually she found what appeared to be a fallen log
beneath a rocky outcrop.
There was even a patch of moss nearby.
Perfect.
Armintie approached carefully.
Already imagining a few precious hours of warmth.
Then the log moved.
Armintie froze.
The moss moved too.
A yellow eye opened.
Then another.
Wolf.
For one impossible second neither moved.
Neither breathed.
Then the wolf lifted its head.
Armintie screamed.
The wolf looked equally startled.
Armintie ran.
Branches slapped her face.
Snow exploded beneath her boots.
Pure panic took over.
She did not think.
Did not plan.
Did not stop.
She simply fled.
Farther.
Farther.
Farther.
Only when her lungs felt ready to burst did she finally
collapse.
Silence.
The wolf had not followed.
The realization came too late.
Her pack.
Her blanket.
Her supplies.
Gone.
Left behind.
Armintie stared into the darkness.
At first she felt disbelief.
Then anger.
Then despair.
The last of her strength vanished.
She had survived the Council.
The exile.
The mountains.
Only to lose everything because she had mistaken a wolf for
a log.
A laugh escaped her.
A broken laugh.
It quickly became sobbing.
The tears would not stop.
Armintie curled into a ball beneath a tree.
The cold ground pressed against her body.
The mountains loomed around her.
For the first time since leaving Daral Valley, she allowed
herself to admit the truth.
She was terrified.
Not of wolves.
Not of hunger.
Not even of dying.
She was terrified because she had no idea what she was
doing.
...and nobody was coming to help her.
The sobs eventually exhausted her.
Sleep arrived before comfort did.
Armintie cried herself into unconsciousness.
Alone beneath the mountains.
Certain that tomorrow would somehow be even worse.
The morning brought no relief.
Only disappointment.
Armintie woke shivering beneath the tree.
Every part of her body hurt.
Her stomach ached.
Her throat felt dry.
The cold had settled deep inside her bones.
For several moments she simply sat there.
Trying to remember where she was.
Trying to remember what had happened.
Then it returned.
The wolf.
The panic.
The running.
The lost supplies.
Armintie closed her eyes.
"No."
The word escaped in a whisper.
Her pack.
Her blanket.
Her food.
Her water.
Everything.
Gone.
Immediately she stood.
Too quickly.
The world tilted.
Darkness crept into the edges of her vision.
She nearly fell.
Eventually the dizziness passed.
...and she began walking.
She would find her things.
She had to.
The wolf's den.
The rocky outcrop.
The moss.
The fallen log.
The place had to be nearby.
It had to.
Hours passed.
The mountains disagreed.
Every slope looked familiar.
Every tree looked familiar.
Every ridge looked familiar.
Armintie found herself returning to places she swore she had
already searched.
The landscape had become a maze.
One built from snow and exhaustion.
She chased memory after memory.
Ghost after ghost.
Never finding anything.
Then eventually she began finding actual ghosts.
At first she thought someone was standing among the trees.
A woman.
Watching her.
Armintie blinked.
The woman vanished.
Later she spotted a group of children playing beside a
frozen stream.
They disappeared when she approached.
Then she saw faces.
Dozens of them.
Some familiar.
Some completely unknown.
The dead boys from Gabin Jabba.
Karim.
Old members of the Order.
People she could not possibly have met.
All of them appeared briefly.
Then vanished.
Armintie told herself she was imagining things.
She knew she was imagining things.
Yet they continued appearing.
By afternoon she stopped arguing with them.
The effort required too much energy.
That was when she saw Zasaramel.
He stood beside a cluster of pines.
Exactly as she remembered.
Broad shoulders.
Calm expression.
Arms folded.
Waiting.
Armintie froze.
Her heart nearly stopped.
For several seconds she could not breathe.
Then anger surged through her.
"What are you doing here?"
Zas did not answer.
He simply turned.
...and began walking.
Armintie followed.
Of course she followed.
Part of her knew something was wrong.
Part of her knew this was impossible.
...but a larger part desperately wanted it to be real.
The larger part won.
"Why did you come back?"
No answer.
"Did Phoebe send you?"
Nothing.
"Are you finally going to tell me where I'm supposed to
go?"
Still nothing.
Yet somehow she continued following.
The mountains seemed less frightening now.
Less hostile.
The loneliness faded.
Every few minutes she found herself smiling.
The worst was over.
It had to be.
Zas had come back.
He would help her.
Everything would be fine.
The certainty felt wonderful.
The path eventually opened into a narrow valley.
Armintie's eyes widened.
A pool sat at its center.
Steam rose from the surface.
Bright green moss surrounded it.
Flowers bloomed nearby despite the winter.
Birds sang.
Sunlight poured through the mountains.
The place looked impossible.
Perfect.
Beautiful.
Safe.
A paradise hidden among the peaks.
Armintie laughed.
A genuine laugh.
For the first time since the Council.
For the first time since the exile.
Everything was finally getting better.
She turned toward Zas.
Wanting to thank him.
Wanting to tell him she was sorry.
Wanting to ask if he was sorry too.
...but Zas was gone.
Armintie blinked.
Confused.
Then looked back toward the pool.
The steam seemed thinner now.
The flowers fewer.
The sunlight dimmer.
For just a moment-
only a moment-
-she thought she saw reality breaking through the illusion.
A frozen depression in the ground.
Dirty snow.
Bare rock.
Nothing more.
Then the vision returned.
Warm.
Inviting.
Perfect.
Armintie smiled.
...and stumbled toward it.
Never realizing that her happiness should have terrified
her.
Because everything was not getting better.
Everything was getting worse.
The pool looked beautiful.
The closer Armintie came, the more real it became.
She could hear water gently lapping against stone.
Could smell fresh flowers.
Could feel warmth against her face.
The cold that had followed her for days seemed to retreat.
At first she suspected another trick.
Another illusion.
Another cruel game played by exhaustion.
She stopped walking.
The pool remained.
Steam continued rising.
The voices continued whispering.
Soft.
Gentle.
Comforting.
Everything she wanted to hear.
Everything she needed to hear.
You're safe now.
It's over.
You can rest.
Armintie closed her eyes.
The relief almost made her cry.
For days she had been cold.
Hungry.
Alone.
Terrified.
Now all of that seemed far away.
A bad dream.
Nothing more.
The water waited.
Warm.
Inviting.
Perfect.
A thought entered her mind.
Simple.
Obvious.
She should go for a swim.
Immediately another voice objected.
No.
That was ridiculous.
The mountains were frozen.
Nothing here made sense.
She should leave.
She should keep moving.
She should-
The warmth brushed across her skin again.
The argument weakened.
The water looked wonderful.
What harm could it do?
Armintie laughed softly.
The answer was obvious.
None.
The water would help.
The water would make everything better.
She took another step forward.
Then another.
The voices grew louder.
Not loud enough to understand.
Not fully.
Yet somehow she knew exactly what they were saying.
Rest.
Rest.
Rest.
Her trembling stopped.
The realization should have frightened her.
Instead it felt wonderful.
Armintie reached for the clasp of her robe.
Her fingers fumbled.
Slow.
Clumsy.
Numb.
Eventually the fastening came loose.
The black robe slipped from her shoulders.
She barely noticed.
The mountain air touched her skin.
She felt no cold.
Only warmth.
The water waited.
Patient.
Loving.
A reward after suffering.
Armintie smiled.
For the first time in days, she felt happy.
Truly happy.
The pool shimmered before her.
She stepped forward.
One foot.
Then the other.
The voices welcomed her.
She could almost recognize them now.
Phoebe.
Arel-Sin.
Even Zas.
Not angry.
Not disappointed.
Just waiting.
Ready to welcome her home.
Armintie's eyes filled with tears.
"I knew you'd come back."
The words escaped in a whisper.
The water rippled.
Sunlight danced across its surface.
She took one final step.
...and the world vanished.
Everything went black.
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