In the Aftermath
Keyleth approaches where the wreckage of the Key stands. Bell’s Hells are split across the battlefield, converging and calling out to each other in assurance that they are well; Beau and Caleb share a nod to confirm the same, before turning their worries to the Beacon; but Keyleth’s eyes are locked on the lens. It was cracked during the fight, a desperate attempt to break the machine. She reaches out a hand, flame wrapping around her fingers as she pours a spell into it.
It shatters apart. The dark glass turning clear as it scatters before vanishing. Where it was a dark silhouette remains.
A feathered cloak unfurls into a humanoid shape, not mortal, certainly not, he is ephemeral and fleeting, not of this world. Yet, there remains the unmistakable imprint a man who only ever knew how to love with every breath and sinew and second. His shoulders shake for a moment in the echoes of whatever form of pain an immortal champion can feel. Even so, there is a gentle smile on his face. Vax was always stubborn, never one to back down after making a decision he knew to be right, such a trait could only be enhanced through service to the Matron. So, he shows no sign of regret for coming to save his love.
She steps forward, bringing her hands to cradle his face, resting their foreheads against each other’s. This can only be a parting juncture, their lives and deaths must be returned to, centuries and fate and a divine gate between them. Right now, however, even if for nothing more than a moment, that is in the future, not the present.
Keyleth’s voice is etched with the sorrow of lost love and a youth that can never be returned to, but she too lets such regrets lie undisturbed as she says in a voice soft enough to cut through the aftermath of a battlefield,
‘Forever, and ever, and always.’
