Last night was one helluva doozy for this little Paladin. From getting her House Guards to allow her to make it to an event last night, all the way to her managing to escape from everyone for some air. As always, every story had an in between, and every story has an ending.. Hers ended with the face of an old flame.
Morning came around once again, and Phaeith awakened in her own bed, when she should have went back to the Infirmary, to rest. Awakening at the crack of dawn, she slowly tossed herself over the side of the bed to sit with her toes grazing the ground, fingers coiling into the bottom of the mattress, and an old, over sized shirt that was scented with sandalwood draped over herself.
As of late, she hasn’t seen Vallesta. All of yesterday she assumed that he would have come by, and he never did. Not once, did she sense or feel his presence, and the loneliness outside of her door nearly broke her heart. In the time she used to reminisce over fresh yet old and worn memories with a good friend, it also fed her the strength to completely pull herself out of bed and walk into her luxurious bathroom.
The first thing that she did was run the shower, and run the sink water. As the two large sources of fluid spewed heated and clear liquid, steam began to cloud the bathroom. It was almost like a self-made sauna, plus some. It was something that comforted her- no. She lost herself in her thoughts, glaring down at the sink. “I am going to kill whoever took you, Son.” Deadly poisoned words that drenched her tongue, emerald tainted eyes leveling up to the mirror..
Doing so took her aback. She hasn’t seen herself in weeks. Her own body, she has not seen it. Her locks seemed almost lifeless and dreary, cheeks at a loss of it’s youthful and natural rosy pigment, with scars and open wounds that riddled her entire form. Through the over sized shirt that hung like a dress around her form, blood began to seep through the front, and her knees immediately buckled. She dropped down, elbows catching herself on the sink, head bobbing to the right..
Something was manifesting her wounds. Something was inside of her, purging her, and she had not the first clue of it. Her once holy infused ruin that smothered over her left shoulder began to glow a deep and devious purple, which also inflicted more pain than she knew. On the marble floor she laid, hands holding her head. “..B.. B.. BELORE!” She roared out to herself, crying into the palms of her dainty hands.
Blood was leaking from her in almost every open wound, and the sad part was that her once beloved Lion, and Eldrin both attempted to fix her up last night. She went through constant sessions of magic, and it all eased her. She never once figured that it was going to turn around and bite her in the ass. The magic seemed to harm her more, than help her. The light magic that was used on her, began to eat her up inside, and her veins burned. Loud screaming and howling came from her room, likely awakening or calling any servants to her door with curious, and helpless intent. What could they do? Their Lady was curled up in a ball on the floor, bleeding out.
Whatever she went through, was so extreme that it knocked her out completely. Hours passed on by, and she awakened back inside of the House’s Infirmary. Aminth was not too far away. In fact, she was perhaps three feet away, delved into a book as she played the waiting game for Phaeith.
It was all a haze for her. However, the quick weariness from first awakening washed off of her form, and all of the pain came back. Her eyes dropped to her exposed arms and legs, for, her form was now in a nursery gown, and not a big shirt!
Her veins were a disgusting purple and black, almost as if a virus was beginning to eat her up from the inside. Something that was not new, though. Something that was awaiting to kick start, and now, it did. Suddenly, new shadow runes began to draw a map along her form, almost as if there was someone in another realm drawing on her body with magic. The pain was excessive and dreadful. It felt like a ticking time bomb that constantly relapsed, and her heart grew weaker and weaker every single time.
The time she spent in the Manor was at a loss of memory, for all she recalled was being beat, knocked out, mended, beat, knocked out, fed, and mended again- it was a horrific cycle. The torture that they put her through, the words that seeded into her mind. The faith that they stripped from her in all but a few weeks, ate her from the inside. There was no light inside of her body to fight back with the shadow magic that was embedded into her being, to corrupt her.
She instead laid there taking it, watching as her open wounds swirled and burned with a purple fluid. Her eyes in a burning haze, suddenly, a burning and foreign sensation began to lapse through her mind. It forced her to arch her back at the pain and howl out, nails digging into the palms of her own hands. So hard that they forced blood out of them, that ran down her forearms and dripped off of her elbows.
Aminth? What could she do, all but stare in utter shock and terror? - No, she found some type of strength, and began pulling books out of the blue, likely trying to look something up. “M-M-Mom!” She scrambled for words, dropping all of the books she had gathered up, only to run to Phaeith’s side. “P-P-Please f-f-f-fight it.” Innocent young eyes drowned in eye stinging tears, heaving and panting some to herself.
Right as Phaeith began to completely lose her faith in the light.. Aminth spoke up. Her voice reflected into the most inflicted parts of her heart, a battle that she was losing. However, as Aminth cried out and she stared at her, it began to give her a drive. First Aminth, then Lucian, the entire House, Velerodra and.. Symmaril. Their talk last night, and the way everyone stood together last night began to burn a hot light into the void that was corrupting her form, causing her to bleed out of her nostrils.
Black ichor liquid snaked out of her nostrils, eyes rolling into the back of her head as the woman shook violently in the little hospice bed that she laid in. A battle that one could see, however, they were missing the entire fight. Inside of her, it was light to shadow, and the shadow was winning. It was contaminating her in all of the worst ways, and her light was barely existent.. Then..
“I never stopped...” Rung through her head from a ghastly and familiar voice, forcing a rhythmic drive to explode from her. Just like that, her hues coated themselves with holy magic, as any new runes that pigmented her skin began to break, and slowly disappear. Her entire body became a shell of light, swirling and tackling the corruption that defiled her.
It might have not been faith in the light, however, it was certainly love that drove her. Love that stemmed off of other people. Zaralyn’s protective nature, Alanas brotherly love, Aminth’s daughterly love, Symmaril’s honesty, Velerodra’s unconditional kindness; Lucian’s innocence, and the House’s strength all at once.. It all motivated her to fight back. It all gave her the strength and want, to pull herself out of her self wallowing pit of terror and hurt.
This was not a quick nor easy process, the light that flooded her was fighting a weak fight- though, it was strong enough to win. Her magic began to cleanse and rid herself from the taint, dots of holy magic smothering the darkest parts of her person, to resurrect the lost life. Something emotional, rather than physical..
What felt like long hours could have passed by for anyone who standbys, until Phaeith finally dropped tiredly into the bed with drowsy eyes looking up at Aminth. Rosy cheeks affiliated with her features once more, wounds collectively coming to a close, as her eyes began to be fueled with a certain type of drive only a Mother could have. No words came from her, though, she did slowly reach a hand out to rest it atop Aminth’s own, breaking down into tears.
