Umbra Mortis (Pt. 3)
“May I ask a question? Why are you still wearing my claw?” Zane stared at the forest once more, planted on the ground right in front of hte first tree, staring off into the distance. The world was starting to grey around him, he’d noticed. His mother no longer smiled, his father seemed tired. The dusty cracked clay beneath him was even more damaged than usual, he’d never in his short years seen it that bad. “You’re going to have to make a choice.” The blonde miqo’te had told him sadly, and she had vanished from him in the morning, leaving him unmoving in his spot on the sun-warmed ground. The choice was simple, he didn’t want to go in there. He wouldn’t, not anymore, not ever. That was his choice. There had been a warm rumbling around him, like the coming of a storm but not scary. He had heard Her voice, like he always did in his dreams, but she’d sounded far away and melancholy, as if she were leaving him to his fate. The warmth though, it was back, and Zane tensed when he felt the heat on his back, soft fur against his bare arms, towering over his small form though the person behind him was sitting back to back with him. All he could see when he tilted his head up was a mountain of snowy white fur with stripes, and he knew them, he knew this mountain. The miqo’te child held very still suddenly, scared he would chase this new warm presence away like he had the other. “He’s going to be happy when you open your eyes, you know.” the figure spoke, voice the rumbling storm that filled his chest with warmth. He did not know, he wanted to protest, no one would care if he didn’t wake up, he didn’t want to wake up, he didn’t want to...didn’t want to face the forest. “As will I. I trust you, Zane.” Trust. Trust came so simply to the male behind him. Zane felt his eyes water and he hitched a soft breath as another memory came. “Why are you still wearing my claw?” “You entrusted it to me, it’s a reminder...that even someone who was harmed by my past, who I was made to hurt could forgive me.” Warm violet eyes that held compassion had pinned him as he had smiled. “You weren’t made to hurt me. Despite everything, you yourself made it so you weren’t such a thing. Keep it.” “If I need to stop that from happening again, I’ll need you here.” Stop what? What had happened? “Not to help me, but to make sure Sigmund knows it I fall.” Who was going to hurt him, who would dare hurt him? I need to make sure it comes from someone I trust. That Baatu knows what happens.” “Stop what? I don’t...I can’t...” “I need you here.” Zane stood, turning as he wrapped small arms around the massive back of the Hrothgar, tears falling into warm fur as he tried to hug as much of him as he could. “Don’t leave me Rukh, please...don’t.” he begged. He stumbled when the Hrothgar vanished, fear clenching his chest hard. Rukh was going to die, he was going to die and he..Zane couldn’t protect him from here. He had to. He had to face it. For Rukh, for Kast, for the others. He couldn’t let Rukh face whatever it was alone...if Rukh died the others would too and he would have been unable to help. Turning back towards the forest he gasped, looking up and up at the towering hyur figure of the cloaked man that filled his nightmares. Instead of running though, he squared his small shoulders, eyes narrowing. “I’m...” “Not afraid of me?” The Hyur male smiled down at him, the expression sending a shard of ice down Zane’s back. “N-No..I am...I am afraid of you.” Zane replied, voice trembling. Turning back he saw it, the village in flames, the bodies of his family and friends scattered, his own home crackling in the fiery blaze that had come from the smoldering torch he was now holding. For a split second the bodies were of those he cared for now, Rukh in a door way, Baatu against a broken cart, Kast in front of him bleeding sluggishly from wounds he dared not count. They blinked back in the next moment to what they were...memories. Memories of the start of his life. “Do you see? You will never be rid of me. I will always own you, and you will always be what I made you.” Melachi’s voice clung to his ears, to his mind and to his heart. Zane stared long and hard at the fire, but he knew this was it. He took a deep breath and turned back towards the dark spectre of his life. “You will be part of me, always. What you did to me, to them...it’s going to always be here. But I won’t let you take anyone else away from me.” As Zane spoke he could feel himself aging. Ten years old when he’d done his first kill, twelve when he’d been sent in the wilderness for six months to survive. Fifteen on his first trip to Garlemald and how scared he had been of the power he had seen. He felt them too, his memories shifting and he could feel the warmth of bodies behind him, standing with him as he faced down the creature that had tried to keep him from his path. “You will end up causing their deaths. Isn’t it better to give up now? To be done with the pain, the torment that will come is a direct result of your actions right now.” The figure tried once more, voice harsh and sharp, commanding him to stop. Zane shook it off, raising his head high as he stood shoulder to shoulder with the figures around him. They were shapeless but he could name them, his friends, his allies and those that cared. Those that wanted him to push through and come back. He pulled them to him like a shield, letting out a slow breath before he stood tall. “You won’t keep me here. They need me, and I need them. Let me pass back to were I belong.” He took one step forward, and the world around him shook, the figure before him hesitant to move, but when he took another step...Melachi stepped back once. That was all that was needed. Zane stepped again, and the world shattered around him. He saw the others running in the forest, felt the heat of sweat and the wet air around him sizzling from the build up of the Magitek Walker’s primary laser cannon. He saw Kast, so wounded that he wasn’t able to get out of the way...and he dove into him again, and smiled when he felt the blast hit him, knowing it would be worth it in the end. Black became grey, and grey became a soft lit white tent. Zane blinked blearily up, wincing at the light and keeping his eyes closed as he just breathed. In, count, out. He didn’t move yet, cataloging the ache in his back, the pain of a body that hadn’t moved in however long. In, count, out. Finally he opened his eyes back up, the light not so bad this time, and he turned his head, smiling slowly when he saw a familiar blond head. For a second he thought it was someone else, but the face came into vision and she was gone, and he was there. Zane didn’t feel strong enough to reach out, but he could try to speak. He felt the piercing stare of those two-toned eyes and he opened his mouth, whatever Goddess blessed him that day allowing him two words. “Hey there.”

















