Soene & Dalis - Finale

“The poor dot.” An elderly lady commented in a hushed tone to her lady-friend. They sat, each to their spindle-wheel. Threading away.

“It must have been so hard.”
“I remember when I lost my Berret.”
“Yes, yes. We know about you and your Berret, Margret. But we’re not talking your old Berret no’ more now, quiet now.”

They began threading again.

“She was so young, the poor dot.”
“With a child as well, the poor dot.”
“Fighting a War, I heard. To save her country, the poor dot.”

Audibly, one of the women attempted to clear her mucus-infected throat, coughing loudly into her handkerchief.

“What has become of her, I wonder?”
“She died, of course. Offed’ herself, she did.”
“No, she never. Off to fight the War, I heard.”
“Left to mother the unborn, I heard.”

A crow landed outside their window. Pecking loudly, flapping its wings for attention. The threading stopped. The three women looked to one another, until the first got up and said; “He’ll know. The Watcher sees all, he’ll know, after all.”

She opened the window and let the bird in. It flapped a little and perched itself on top of an antler on one of the walls – where it proceeded to tell the tale – of the Widow.

/ /

In the privacy of Sundown, where none of the Southern riders could tame Reagan's widow, - she rode, ever long on the Eblissian horse she had obtained took her away from the Village, forcing the animal to cut through the water. Once it was brushing her ankles, she dismounted and descended into the water.

Strings of blonde hair were whisked by the water.  Everything was serene.  A flock of Seagulls crossed the horizon ahead – eyes following them.

Without death, there was no life. And as such – Soene couldn't afford to live one where death had been the conqueror.
The bandages wrapped around her head were peeled away, left to float – stained with red.

Cutting her path deeper in the shallows of the water, desperation had clutched hold of her mind – clouding it with foolishness and improbable triumph.

“Give him back.”

She knew he was gone. She hadn’t even seen his body yet – she knew it before the news had arrived. – That’s how she ended up here. This was where her tears could be hidden. This was where she felt closest to him.

“Give him back.”

For many days, many hours – Soene would simply wait. Seated firmly, unmoving from the sands of Aracel, eyes fixed on the horizon – waiting, for her beloved to return. For something to shift and stir, a sign, a message. Anything. Knowing that her efforts were all in vain, still she persisted.  Never had such sorrow, such loss seeped into her – like a quick poison. Colour had drained from her face, her hair. The meat on her bones seemed to vanquish, her collar sharpened. Her features stiff.

“The poor dot.” They said, “Ain’t no two souls that fitted so well, they say.”

“Do it for the life that is growing inside of you. For surely you must not fail your own child, your own husband. Not now.”

Everything was spinning, spiraling uncontrollably.

Nothing could contain her rage.

Percival didn’t even have time to contain the girl, he couldn’t – not with his own hurt. When the news had been received that Dalis Reagan, second of his name – Champion of Empora – hadn’t been victorious in his last battle, unknown to anyone of his trial – that he’d not be returning home, - hell broke loose within the confides of the hut.

A woman’s screams echoed through the shores. Soene’s wrath  had been unleashed upon anyone that had dared to know her – they’d know that this was not like her at all, and for her to respond in such an uncouth way – it meant that a portion of her had died along with Dalis.

But it wasn't the receiving the news that was the hardest.

Saying goodbye was the hardest task.

Because he didn’t appear deceased to her.

To Soene, even in death – Dalis appeared just as juvenile.

The color had drained from him along with his warmth, but he hadn’t changed – he’d forever remain, be remembered and look like a champion.  Hand sprawled over his cheek, forehead landing gently against his own.  So sweet was her tone, her words dripped with love and benevolence; “The Gods are so cruel, taking you away from me when I had only just begun to accept the idea of a longer future, had it been permitted, with you.” Her eyes sealed tightly, brows knitting together in pain. “Wherever you are, please do not alternate your sight from us. From me.” Being without Dalis was like being without air. Soene might as well be detached and separated from half of her body. Where did logic find its place in her life now? “This world does not interest me any longer, not without you by my side.” Her arms curled about him, burying her face closely to his neck. Her warm hair splaying over his chest, “I bet that Throne suits you well. I can only hope to one day, see your glory for myself.” Her lips traced back to his forehead, placing a long kiss before she leaned back and exhaled into the horizon ahead, hands guiding the pyre out to the Sea and away from her grasp, away from Aracel and the World as they knew it. It was at this moment, as Soene watched the vessel grow distant in the waters that she realized her dearest comrade was gone, along with a precious portion of her heart. While her face appeared neutral and indifferent, streams of tears began to fall all at once, “I love you.”

Dalis’ death only strengthened her.  In the beginning, Soene’s days had grown dark – she lived in denial for weeks upon weeks, even after bidding his body farewell in Aracel, she simply couldn’t accept that he was gone.  However, during her pregnancy – her appetite had tripled. She ate feverishly, almost aggressively through-out her prenatal period. Feeding both herself and their unborn child – so that he or she may grow strong, as any parent intended.

The birth of their child was a most ghastly and intense display of strength. It was an early and unexpected delivery. Soene had gone into premature labor, nearly five weeks before due date.  Nonetheless, it was a most normal birth.  It was late into a night during the Festive Season of Winter that a nurse had called for aid. It was a long and nerve-wrecking process. Morrigan  was present, along with Augusta and her girls – they all assisted in some way or another.

Soene insisted that she wasn't ready for delivery, but the nurses had argued with her that if they delay any sooner it could put both hers and their child's life at risk. Soene only insisted that they'd place her in water.

"A steam, a tub - I don't care, just please - get me into water."

Her body was craving this, unknowingly - confused and without explanation, it was Ashphar that hoisted her and took her to the Temple's Bathing Pool, where Soene was to give birth. Her hands dug into the coral of the pool's surface, arms visibly struggling.

She damned Dalis for doing this to her. For leaving her like this - for making her go through this process on her own.

"I hope you're grateful, brute."

Hours passed, and a series of powerful heart-shattering screams and strikes later, cries were heard. Silence befell and everything suddenly felt… fulfilled.  Despite these long, colorless months of bereavement and grief, Morrigan had conveyed her first smile – after  losing both her husband and son so soon, her heart was rewarded with something just as precious – a third; “It’s a girl.”

Soene did not know how to be a mother, however, she knew how to handle a Reagan – and upon setting eyes on their child, she suddenly remembered what it was like to feel whole again. Had it been born a lad, no one would have enquired about a name, for everyone already knew that they’d be named after their predecessors, however, a girl was unexpected – so automatically Soene felt the weight of pressure befall her again. Her eyes nervously searched the faces of her alias for help, but none could make requests – they were just as shocked, and as happy as she was.  The name would arrive, surely.

/ /


Over the years, vast ackers of territory had been recovered, many of the sickly were cured and the poor were salvaged. Soene had single-handedly restored the Lumen Faith through-out the North by sanctifying the land – with the help of the Temple Knights, and its teachings, Ebliss soon managed to regain most of its old allies. Re-forming an alliance that for years had been put on hold due to matters of Politics and cultural indifference. Now, their army had grown stronger than ever – new recruits traveled to the City of Light to pledge a treaty and unify their colonies with the forces of the Temple every year. Word traveled far of their success, the Religion  had been given a new plight. It had been adjusted, restored to the Old Ways before the Council had taken control over its instructions and bended the ways to suit their will.

Over the years to come, Soene’s Knighthood had been completely restored. She was baptized once again, however now – she was delivered an even greater honour as ‘Grand Master’ of the Temple Knights, their Lady Matron of Leadership and Duty. Both Soene and Ashphar were united as Commanders and Masters, holding the highest responsibility of the Military Forces in the North.  They were guided with the help of Sir Josa, who was now titled Grand Knight as well, and the three of them reassured concord in their City. Numerous Battles had been Won in their favour, driving away enemy forces back to their accursed land.

The Lumen Faith was not taught simply to civilizations by winning Battles, but it was through the teachings of a Pries of the Light. But in order for their teachings to read so far, Priests had to be allocated into other Cities. But in order to do this, Monks had to travel to their destination in order to reinforce their lessons to the public. Many times, they’d be killed on the road – slaughtered. Ultimately failing in their quest after years of dedication and study.  And so, in order to prevent such untimely deaths – Monks and Priests were usually escorted by a Temple Knight in training to serve as their guardian. Should they return unharmed, they were promoted. It was a honor no Knight should neglect.

Valente, Forte and Josa held a meeting to choose their successor in this task. Ideally, it had to be someone with great skill, able to fend for themselves and protect their audience. Someone whose training was near-complete. They discussed possible candidates, exchanging detailed descriptions of their opinions and performance.

“What of Marmo? He is a skilled combatant.”
“That he is, but he is too slow and his alertness falters under pressure.”
“And what of Sir Kando’s  Leea ? She is his apprentice, she shows great reserve and maintains a calm posture even when the odds play against her. She never seizes to surprise me.”
“Perhaps, but she lacks in strength. We cannot rely on just quick-thinking.”

They all sat quietly for a moment, thinking over their options before Valente calmly exhaled into her palms and suggested what everyone had been thinking out loud, but never dared to express while in her presence.

“Why not my own?” She bluntly said. Ashphar and Josa swapped gazes, not disagreeing. Soene sat back in her seat, calmly folding her arms. “Will you not agree that out of our options, they are the ideal choice?” They nodded unsurely, “Of course they are. They’re strong and they have proved on countless occasions that they can out-match any of their colleagues.”

“Then it’s settled.” She said, coming to a stand from the round table. Their invitees standing also, “Gentlmen.” They bowed out of curtsy, politely allowing their Leader to leave the settlement.

Soene left a little wrecked on the inside, knowing that her decision was a hard one – but a logical and necessary one. She had faith that this would work out for the best. Her steps were heavy, echoing down the endless corridors of the Temple. The Soldiers that stood guard immediately re-adjusting their stance upon seeing Valente.

Her destination was the Squire Settlement, where the majority of the Knights-in training retrieved for the evening to be served a meal at the Dining Hall after training. When she entered, the students all stood out of respect, dropping whatever it was that they were doing. Calmly, she announced the name of the one she was looking for and waited. From a row at the back, a girl with golden hair stood. She was under-dressed, just like everyone else – a tunic, bracers and leggings with thigh-high boots. Her hair had volume to it, and it sat beautifully on her shoulders. The two of them left the Dinning Hall.

They walked a good mile’s worth to find privacy in Valente’s office, her chosen campaigner closing the door behind them and standing in front of the desk.  They looked at one another for a moment, before the formality soon diminished and Valente smiled knowingly.

“Very good.”
The young girl cocked an eyebrow, half-daring to roll her eyes but her posture soon slandered a little.
“Don’t look at me like that. I have good news.”
“What good news?”
“You’ve been chosen for a mission, and I have faith that you will see it through.”

The girl’s eyes widened a little, in both boredom and excitement.  She gathered her thoughts for a moment, searching for words but nothing came out, apart from a sarcastic; “I’m… honored?”

Soene sat in her chair, sighing into her palms. She exchanged the details with the younger one. Explaining that she’d need to go on a journey away from home to escort a Priest to a City that was in recovery from  the War. It would be dangerous, she knew – but it would be a means of promoting her student into becoming a Temple Knight.

By the end of it, the teen looked excited more than ever. A chance to go outside of the City – it was freedom, her ticket to a life of adventure.  She tried to maintain a professional denouement, but it couldn't be helped. She flashed her Commander a toothy grin and assured her that she wouldn’t let them down.  This worried Soene, but it was at moments like these that she was reminded that her ‘own’ was nothing like her, despite the looks she had inherited – she truly was her father’s daughter.

“You’ll be leaving sometime in the upcoming week. We’ll just await the arrival of your counterpart and then you may begin this task.”
Counterpart? What counterpart? The girl frowned at the thought. Typical. Valente never trusted her. Not when it came to responsibility.

“I thought I would be seeing this through on my own.”
“Having a Counterpart is vital. Should one of you fail in this mission, it shall be the other’s job to fulfil the task where the other was unsuccessful to.”

Hair was blown away from her face in dissatisfaction. The young girl took on a displeased look on her face, her attention shifting to a spot on the wall and counting back from ten before breathing feverishly through her nostrils.
“Why don’t you trust me, mother?”

Those words struck Soene in a place she was sure had long been hollow. For a moment, she was speechless. Simply and indifferently staring back at the younger image of herself, except  - with a few distinct features that did not belong to the Valente blood-line.
“For that reason precisely.” She finally said. “Because I am your parent, as well as your Commander – and as such, you will not be displeased with me for wanting to ensure your safety.”

//

A group of cavaliers had arrived in the Village of Aracel baring a message from the North. A Winged Holy Cross was the Flag’s emblem, and the citizens of Aracel had seen it many times before. It was recognized immediately.  The band’s messenger was greeted by a tall Elven Woman – Augusta. They spoke briefly, exchanging a parchment with her before they bid farewell and returned back to the way they came from.  She examined the words written on paper, identifying the signature – ‘Valente,’.

It was an odd note, unexpected and surprising. She showed the letter to the Smithy who had now grown grey, but he still worked wonders with his craft. They spoke a little, coming to the conclusion that they should trust in Soene's words more now than ever. “If she needs our help, then it must be important.”

The little Man patted his belly, dropping the Iron of his forge near the Grinder and leaving his hut to find the person he was to deliver the note to.

Gabriel was once a student, however now – sixteen years later, he had grown into an experienced man. Dalis hadn’t been around to see his formable pupil escalate up the ranks thanks to his teachings, he whom now exchanged his lessons with the children of the Village – in memory of his teacher. He believed that the passing of knowledge was sacred and it should be kept kindled. Grappling as he knew it, was still a style to be reckoned with. Many afternoons were either dedicated to fishing or practice – life was good by the Sand.

“Gabriel, lad.” Percy called. The young man looked over his shoulder, sticking his Fishing spear into the sand and sloshing through the water to make way for the Smithy. Once they were together, Percival explained to Gabriel that he had been personally requested to go on a quest by Soene. Gabriel at first found this odd, but he asked little to no questions. “She’s reassured us that you’ll be compensated.” Even though it wasn’t necessarily something they looked for between Aracel and Ebliss, a task was still a task – and danger lurked nearby, something should be returned for his time. He was to, apparently, escort a protégé and a Monk to a Southern Location from Ebliss. His purpose was to keep the Monk’s Guardian safe. 'A Guardian for the Guardian.' Even though the nature of this plan appeared odd at first, Percy and Augusta understood why it had been of importance that Soene had chosen someone from Aracel to give their aid.

Inwardly, they were a little excited to meet the successor. A part of them wanted to gaze into the face of a stranger and remind themselves of the boy they had lost so very long ago. It would be a refreshing, albeit nostalgic – first meeting.

“I’ll make ya’ a fresh pair of leathers to take with ya’.” Percy said, clapping the man on the arm. “This ain’t gonna’ be nothing like what you’re used to, lad. So best so strap up a little for when our company arrives.”  Percival would be damned if he’d be caught with the hint of enthusiasm in his eyes, so, the Smithy quickly cleared his musky throat and stomped off to his Forge.  Augusta watched steadily with her arms folded, knowing the little man better than anyone – she too, exchanging the faintest of grins, which in return earned her a grumpy comment from the Dwarf.


//


“I think I love you.”

Those words had set the course for what had become of her today.

Soldier. Commander. Leader – Mother, Widow. Heroine. Liberator.

It had been sixteen years since Dalis’ death. Age was beginning to catch up with her, ever still – Soene looked very much the same. Long warm golden hair, striking blue eyes and a cold, calm expression. The losses she endured through-out her life had re-fabricated her soul. She had been destroyed over and over again, only to be re-constructed from the pit of emptiness. Many times she wanted nothing more than to drop arms and give up – on many occasions she felt like simply giving up her title and wandering endlessly across the world until she found something worth holding onto again. She could not escape her purpose, nor her dreams. Dreams of her prideful years as a Holy War Maiden, riding into combat and bringing her enemies to their knees.  How naïve she once was – stupid, brave – utterly inconsiderate – but never selfish.

She had never loved – and she never would again, not how she did with Reagan. There was much that been left unsaid. It felt as though their last months together had been heated with disputes, mis-understandings and long trials of separation and distance. Had they always been this way?

Soene never dismissed the memory of the Ball they had attended, her exile – and Dalis’in his supportive stance. He protected her when no one else did, when the Council had decided she was a hazard to their home and cause. Dalis had stood by her even then, Dalis had done so much – and Soene, never properly thanked him for it.

Perhaps now, she could redeem herself. Perhaps when her duty in Ebliss is done – she may one day be permitted to compensate him.

For the first time in years, she saw him again.

Everything was vivid. The colours of a the field seemed to stand out sharply in the eye, so much so that she had to squint for a while before being able to properly open them. She was dressed in her angelic armour again, the design of feathers visible on the blessed steel.  A few lesser lines sketched her appearance, and before her she noticed a large animal – a horse.

“Dindin.” She murmured with glee, watching as the horse took off.

Soene recalled upon when she first lost Dalis, her dreams always began with the image of his impatient mount leading acting as her guide.

He took off – and Soene took on the chase.

She felt lighter in her dreams, her speed was enhanced and her agility was flawless. Being able to bound wider steps than the norm and tail the horse. They’d run endlessly through the neon green and vivid blue above. Her breaths were lurid – heart thundering.  The sound of her armour tittering and clanking.

Eventually, they’d find the last member of the trip.

Body crashing into his own – so hard that it felt as though she was trying to ram herself straight through him. Half the time, she expected it to happen. But he was solid – and warm, just as she remembered.  Her arms fiercely snapped around him. Cheek hitting his chest, panting out of breath from her long run.  Blood pumping through her, making her ears, cheeks and eyes burn and throb.

“Soeneshine!”

Her shoulders rise and fall quickly. That pain was returning again.

It had been sixteen years.

But it felt like they had never been separated for more than a day.

Dreams are said to last no longer than thirty seconds, and in these short moments – Soene relieved the memories of their adventures together. Usually, they’d wrestle. Sometimes they’d spar.

He never changed – his weapons were with him.

By the end, they sat and spoke and laughed – basking in their exhaustion and the strain in their limbs. It was a good feeling. Being drained from a good fight.

Soene would ask of his ‘life’ in the afterlife. What did the ‘Throne’ feel like and all sorts of ridiculous and pompous questions.
When it was time to leave, Dindin would usually arrive to irritate his friend by crunching at his shoulder with his teeth. Which usually resulted in the brute slapping the horse’s muzzle away, or threatened to beat him.

“I have to go now, Soene.”

She never argued.  His death had been accepted long ago. But Soene couldn’t help but…

“Dalis… wait."

She couldn't find the words, everything was suddenly becoming blurry. Time was limited. He was already a few good feet from her. Her heart sunk,  feet wouldn’t lift from the soil. Was this melancholy in the flesh? She had lost him once, must she look at this again?

“Wait!”

She bounded. Least she miss this moment again.

Words she had damned herself for not saying before, and at the same time – for saying them so precisely.

“Please, forgive me if I ever wronged you. For not being able to protect you. For impeding in your destiny and for loving you so strongly.  My mind has become so tired over the years. I’ve been so reckless since you’ve been gone, Dalis. I fight now only to conclude my time here, but the Gods – they don’t want me yet. But I know, the moment I give up – I’ll truly be lost.”

In this place, Dalis would never leave without pulling his wife into his arms and fervently kissing her farewell.  Not saying a word to her confession, his stay had been overdone as it is. When his warmth left her, Soene was in the comfort of her bed in Ebliss – an older lady, mother of one and a true Leader to a remarkable assembly of men.

//

Through-out her life, Nagali had been recognized as a trouble-maker.  Her laugh was loud and proud; her features were naturally and distinctively flamboyant. Her eyes were of a stark blue, and shaped mischievously.  She had inherited her father’s lack of interest for ‘Squabbling rituals’ and ‘fancy’ events.  As a matter of fact, she had inherited much from her Father. While Soene was patient and kind (and apathetic to a degree), Nagali wasn't as composed. She enjoyed brawling and running without restraint – she was for the most part,  a happy child. And humoursly enough, like Dalis – Nagali had little interest in learning her letters. Although, she did not struggle – thanks to Soene for reinforcing their importance.

Now, in her teens – she had grown into a beautiful and robust young woman. Much full-figured than her mother, - and strong. But her strength did not deflect away from her striking beauty. When Nagali was but a cub in Soene’s arms, she took to calling her ‘Starshine’.
As a parent, Soene was very patient – but Nagali was stubborn and untamed, as a result – they did bicker every so often. Nagali did not take into consideration of her mother’s Title and image and how it too – affected her, whether she liked it or not.

She was fond of pulling pranks and making people laugh. She enjoyed mocking little things and she triumphed in competition.  One could say she was, for the most part, a tomboy. Returning home muddied and bruised from brawling.

“I don’t recall raising you like this.” Her mother would say, “I might as well claim I have a son.”

Perhaps things may have been different should Dalis had been around to play the role that lacked in their lives.  On the other hand, Nagali had the presence of her uncle, Ashphar – who tried his very best to fulfill part of that role. Both Ashphar and Josa had grown very close to the girl – and in return she loved them dearly. They were, in truth, her family. Even though at times she felt as if she did not belong in the City. She knew of her Grandmother, Morrigan. She had arrived on a few occasions to spend time with her grand-child - and they were very close.

The subject of her father wasn’t often brought up. Often Nagali would make a comment about how she ‘heard’ rumors and stories that her father was a savage and a brute. – It was no lie, but it wasn’t all truths either. Secretly, Nagali wouldn't have minded if her father was a Bandit! Although, she doubted that of being true - considering the type of woman her mother was.

Soene never forced his memory onto her, not because she didn’t want to – but because they had both accepted that he was never coming back, even Soene's memory was beginning to falter after so long.

On this day, Nagali was preparing to set out on her quest to accompany a Priest to a City known as ‘Cphera’. She bid farewell to her friends and met with Valente, Josa and Forte at the City’s main Gates on horseback. Like Soene, many years ago – when she too departed on her first mission with Ashphar – she was fashioned similar armour, except hers was of a heavy make. Eblissian Steel – blessed. Upon her return home, she was promised a new weapon of choice. But for the time being, she wielded a two-handed Greatsword and rode a tall Steed named Bartolomeo. Her instructions were carefully written out on parchment and tucked into her cloak.  Soene felt at ease for the time being for allowing her daughter to go, since she had cleared most of the path to Aracel from any infiltration the enemy might still have. The road was mostly safe, again. Her temporary ‘counterpart’ should be arriving very soon.

Nagali still wasn’t content about the whole ordeal.

She never knew the name of the Priest, she never asked. It had been said before, but she never cared to remember. She’d simply remember the face and see to it from there.

The Priest was awaiting them in a little settlement not too far from the City.

They patiently waited for about another hour before the Aracelean man arrived. He wasn’t… what Nagalli was expecting. He was, taller – much broader and not as ‘clean’ as the people of Ebliss.

After brief greetings and farewells, Gabriel and Nagali shared an awkward first glance. He knew who she was – but she, on the other hand – thought he might have been a hired mercenary by the looks of him. Soene and Gabriel spoke for a moment, - and after, they were free to depart.

Soene embraced her daughter and whispered words of safe-keeping.

As soon as they were a few mile’s off, Nagali looked him over and crinkled her nose; “Listen.”

Gabriel looked to her. He was strangely quiet. Had he always been that way?

“I don’t need no ‘counterpart’. I’m going to be a Temple Knight soon, and I don’t need my associates back at home hearing how my mother, her ‘Lady Mistress’ of the Temple – hired some ruffian from God knows where to look out for me. I can hold my own. I couldn’t care less if after league’s away we go our separate ways and no one has to know.”

Again, he was quiet. This all seemed so odd to him – and to her both.

“So how about it, buddy? Fancy leaving me to be the hero of the day and get crowned upon my victorious return without any assistance, or are we going to make this difficult? Your choice.”

Nagali had things to prove - to herself, to Ebliss and to her mother. - And she was determined to win.

Fiery. Confident and independent - he thought.

He smirked knowingly.

Nothing he expected less from a Reagan.