Dawn of the Nephilim

51. Tiar'Mara awakes

As usual, when Windar finally dismissed them, they sank to the ground in exhaustion. Light was fading, and Eloï'inda had prepared their supper while watching Tiar'Mara. Spirits rose as they finally enjoyed some well-earned rest, and food and drink replenished their strength. The venison, matured and juicy, was excellently prepared, tasting of game, smoke and a delicate mélange of various herbs. The day rolled on into the evening. In the pleasant glow of the fire, they continued to strengthen their bond as a group with stories and laughter. A camping trip couldn't have been more peaceful nor even so calm. However, as the evening progressed, Ronan felt a strange kind of nausea that continued to worsen. He decided he had probably overstretched himself today, and that he would go to rest early. He was about to bid the others good night when Eloï'inda jumped to her feet. "Finally, it is here." Startled, Ronan followed her gaze which rested on Tiar'Mara, and he gasped. Tiar'Mara's skin began to glimmer, emanating a sickly, blackish light, which even while glowing seemed to be eaten by shadow and decay. He was about to make a comment, when suddenly his chest felt as though a hot iron was being pressed against it, causing immense pain. Not able to suppress a scream, he pulled his shirt off in an attempt to cool himself. The rose was shimmering blue and black, causing new pangs of pain that shout throughout his body. He wanted to speak, but couldn't get a sound past his throat. The last thing he saw was the white face of Ayra pointed at him. "Ionara Ronan, what.." Then he fell over and lost consciousness.

He was standing on an endless grassy plain, which was lightly stirring in the wind. An unnatural light seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Light and grass, nothing else. And in that strange environment he saw a woman standing in front of him, holding him with a penetrating, blue-eyed gaze. Tiar'Mara. "At last, I see you." Increased sadness seemed to creep across that already so very sad face. "I have felt you Ronan. Even as you felt me. I have even watched your dreams as you have mine." She laughed a mirthless laugh. "You have bound yourself to a broken creature Ronan. To be reconnected with a human..." She almost tenderly spoke the word, and even in this world of dreams her eyes shifted color, turning green. "With and because of you I am reliving the terrible sorrows of my life, and thus we have again unleashed in me so much pain and grieve, so many pains and horrors, I find it near impossible to imagine anything to live for any more. The abyss, the very whispers of Beanor lure me with visions of tranquility and rest. The eternal blessing of forgetfulness." Her grieve was so palpable, almost welling up from within him, that the sight of her tore at his heart, almost ripping it to pieces. He felt like crying. Slowly, she began walking towards him, her bare feet tearing at the rippling grasses, which veered up behing her.

"I tell you now Ronan, it is not a blessing to live too long. It is no comfort to retain enormous wealth of memory in your heart. Old am I, and wise. But now, I am as a mewling babe, terrified to be face with the wholly new. Now, I find myself bound to you. You and your fresh desire to live, to experience. You have a romanticized view of the world Ronan. Still, in you reside the pictures painted by the authors of books. And this breaks my heart. It is in the nature of my species to want to protect and keep all life Ronan. To protect that which can't protect itself. To choose the option I deserve after all my suffering, to just give into the pull of the abyss, would now mean to pull you with me. This is the only thing that has kept me here so far Ronan. The only thing that stopped me from stepping over the edge. I can beat the poison, your body gives me more than enough power to overcome it. Yet, I still can't find any reason to live. Can you give me one?" A desperate plea was in her eyes.

Ronan had no answer. He was overcome by the extent of her grieve churning inside of his chest. He could understand it like he never could have from words or sight alone. Even so, he realized its full extent was hidden to him. The full extent would leave him an empty husk howling at the moon and growling at the world for the rest of his days. They were now facing one another. With desperate effort, he stood his ground. He felt a desperate urge to put as much distance between her and him as he could, to run until his legs gave out. However, he did not. Weathering afflictions beyond anguish, he took his first tender steps into a world that transcended happiness, grieve or anger. People say sometimes that the eyes of a lover, offer a view of a world we once possessed but have long since forgotten. Tiar'Mara's eyes were portals to a world even beyond that realm, beautiful and diverse beyond imagining. But also cold and tormented further than this world could allow, the freezing and devouring nothingness of atoms and stars. Slowly, Ronan raised his hand and gently lay it on her cheek. She closed her eyes and he felt her shiver underneath his touch. "I fear you know not what terrors you choose, Ronan." It was no more than a whisper.

She took his hand away from her face and opened her eyes again, blazing orange and purple, streaked through with gaseous clouds of red.

"So be it. We will make a covenant, you and I. My conscience calls me to my husband and son beyond the veil and my mission in this world in equal measure. As far as I can tell, we are connected as the heart is to its arteries. We will endure together, but should you drift away and become disenchanted with this existence or unworthy of it, we will have a reckoning. Live well, Ronan."

Then the sea of grass was gone, and Ronan opened his eyes to the tender and sad face of Eloï'inda. "It has passed. Speak not of what you have done Ronan, but she will live." She shook her head in disbelief. "I had not thought this possible. What is it you hide Ronan?" A great rift seemed to open between them, as she scrutinized his face with something akin to trepidation. "It would interest me greatly to know the full measure of you history. Very much indeed." She stroked his face like his mother would when he was younger. "Sleep now Ronan. The journey yet to come is long and hard." Immediately, he felt all the stress ebb out of him and he sunk into the bliss of a dreamless sleep.