Celestial Roots

Chapter 20 - The exile

When Taghna passed through the rows of imposing séarach that surrounded the glade of Séaroën, intense pain tore her chest. She felt like she was cut in half, just above her chest. The suffering palpated with each of her steps, tearing her body as she sank deeper into the forest.

Dazed, she walked randomly, pushing hard on her legs to get as far away as possible from where she had committed this abject and unforgivable act. Taghna felt it in her flesh. Part of her soul had died there, the part of herself that belonged to Séaroën. From then on, those who had raised, fed and protected her, those with whom she had grown, learned, laughed and cried no longer considered her one of their own.

The foul smell of blood smearing her hands hit Taghna hard. The image of Asgeül, unrecognizable and lying in her blood, exploded in her head. Taghna was taken with violent spasms. She fell to her knees to vomit a black and sour bile. What had happened to make her lose control of herself, to go so far as to want to kill her brataïr?

Suddenly, the prospect of death, which had frightened Taghna so much since her drowning experience, was no longer so repulsive. For she, who was inhabited by terrible visions and unbearable memories of her failures, dying would offer her the unending rest that had welcomed Muchach, the First Man.

Taghna slashed at her throat with her fingernails, hit her face with all the strength she had left, crying out loud in rage and pain. She wanted to punish herself for her madness, for her actions that had put her friends and the village in danger. Despite the droplets of purple liquid pervading her wounds, her skin, driven by the uisgaïr, closed inexorably.

Thus, Lorgá continued to impose her will, healed the people she had chosen and let the others die. In Taghna's eyes, there was no justice in Lorgá's decisions and the young woman imagined the First Woman mocking her and her helplessness as well as the choices she wanted to make.

Taghna could not escape Lorgá. She had not been able to influence the customs of the village, and she could not even take her own life. The only path left was loneliness. Alone, detached, uprooted from the customs she had been taught, perhaps she could find peace.

But where could she go?

Through the smell of her own vomit, Taghna could perceive the odours of her friends. It was stuck to the trees, plants and stones that bordered Séaroën. The familiar scents revived images that drove Taghna mad with pain and regret. She felt like she was trapped in a huge spider web made of memories.

The solution came naturally. There was only one possible direction for her, only one place that would be devoid of the history and presence of those who had been close to her: the Great Plains.

Taghna got up, but as soon as she started walking, she recognised Slavan's tracks. The durséar had not been in exile for a long time and Taghna realized that it would only take a moment to rejoin with him. It is for this very reason that she chose a different direction. Above all, she wanted to avoid the presence of her brataïr, which would only make more vivid her past memories.

As night fell, and still as disgusted by herself, she felt that her senses were playing tricks on her. As soon as she blinked, when she looked into the darkness, Asgeül's bloody face reappeared from her memory, making her scream with fear.

Taghna looked up and saw the tiny gleams floating through the foliage, shining bright on the dark background. She regretted not being able to perceive them during the day because their presence distilled in her a soothing breath.

Slightly reassured, she climbed a tree to get closer to the mysterious lights. She wedged herself against a branch and lost herself in the contemplation, not daring to close her eyes.