Leithian.
Celaldur had told him to come to the forests at dusk and pray, to be named by Sehanine and to be freed from the stain of humanity. And though Celaldur spoke only to an illusion, he had obeyed all the same.
He had thought about his own name, the name given to him by his mother, and taught to him by his father. He had not known his mother then, but his father had explained it. Alye'i'an ...together and long. Long Together.
He had not known its significance then. He had not known until infernal spirits had nearly taken everything from him, had stolen him from himself, had taken root in his soul. Long Together. Together, forever.
But she was dead, and the name she gave him now seemed more a memento of a curse than anything else. One that he could not wipe away with acid, or magic, or force of will; not like he had done with his twin moons. He could hide it, keep it secret from those around him ... mask its presence and dub himself false monikers to walk amongst men once again. He could not destroy it.
But perhaps he could replace it.
Leithian.
Freedom.
How fitting, that he should receive this from Sehanine, the same day that Willem the Tinkerer took from him a debt; the debt of a love long lost. A debt that Willem implied would be paid, regardless of his intent. A debt that would not bind him, but set him free.
Tamara ... can he really take you from me?
Even as he whispered her name, he felt something had changed. The ache that he felt in his breast at her loss was ... not gone. But less. No longer haunting. No longer twisting at him from within. No longer what it used to be.
But that could be from the erosion of time. His people loved dearly, passionately, remembered strongly, felt deeply yes ... but even to the fair folk, love could be lost.
Or perhaps their love was not real at all. Tamara ... they had been together for what seemed only seconds, before they were undone. Before he had been shunned. Before she had been slain. And Tamryn ... she was not the same person. He knew that now; a part of him had always known. But the other parts had overwhelmed reason to tell him that Tamryn was Tamara reborn. That she was the same.
She was not the same; she had made that unquestionably clear. But he had clung to her because she was all that he had known. All he thought he could ever know. She was his beacon, but a false one. A savior that never came.
It was not her fault, he knew. He was beyond even her immense power to save. Still, the thought that perhaps in one gesture she could wipe away all the tragedies of his past, all the despair and loneliness ... it was too tempting not to think in such a way. What else was left to him?
He knew she was not his to hold onto. She had not been, for a long time.
Leithian ... Tamara forgive me, but I can cling to you no longer. It is time I found my own path. I release you, Tamara ... from my song, my stars, my spirit. I release you, so that I can find the truth that is me.
"I am Leithian," he whispered into the wind.
It sang back, "We are free."
Celaldur had told him to come to the forests at dusk and pray, to be named by Sehanine and to be freed from the stain of humanity. And though Celaldur spoke only to an illusion, he had obeyed all the same.
He had thought about his own name, the name given to him by his mother, and taught to him by his father. He had not known his mother then, but his father had explained it. Alye'i'an ...together and long. Long Together.
He had not known its significance then. He had not known until infernal spirits had nearly taken everything from him, had stolen him from himself, had taken root in his soul. Long Together. Together, forever.
But she was dead, and the name she gave him now seemed more a memento of a curse than anything else. One that he could not wipe away with acid, or magic, or force of will; not like he had done with his twin moons. He could hide it, keep it secret from those around him ... mask its presence and dub himself false monikers to walk amongst men once again. He could not destroy it.
But perhaps he could replace it.
Leithian.
Freedom.
How fitting, that he should receive this from Sehanine, the same day that Willem the Tinkerer took from him a debt; the debt of a love long lost. A debt that Willem implied would be paid, regardless of his intent. A debt that would not bind him, but set him free.
Tamara ... can he really take you from me?
Even as he whispered her name, he felt something had changed. The ache that he felt in his breast at her loss was ... not gone. But less. No longer haunting. No longer twisting at him from within. No longer what it used to be.
But that could be from the erosion of time. His people loved dearly, passionately, remembered strongly, felt deeply yes ... but even to the fair folk, love could be lost.
Or perhaps their love was not real at all. Tamara ... they had been together for what seemed only seconds, before they were undone. Before he had been shunned. Before she had been slain. And Tamryn ... she was not the same person. He knew that now; a part of him had always known. But the other parts had overwhelmed reason to tell him that Tamryn was Tamara reborn. That she was the same.
She was not the same; she had made that unquestionably clear. But he had clung to her because she was all that he had known. All he thought he could ever know. She was his beacon, but a false one. A savior that never came.
It was not her fault, he knew. He was beyond even her immense power to save. Still, the thought that perhaps in one gesture she could wipe away all the tragedies of his past, all the despair and loneliness ... it was too tempting not to think in such a way. What else was left to him?
He knew she was not his to hold onto. She had not been, for a long time.
Leithian ... Tamara forgive me, but I can cling to you no longer. It is time I found my own path. I release you, Tamara ... from my song, my stars, my spirit. I release you, so that I can find the truth that is me.
"I am Leithian," he whispered into the wind.
It sang back, "We are free."
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