At A Loss

[Kaeldorn]

On a night darker than any, so dark that not even the sanctuary of the Healing House of Lathander could shine a light, a teenage girl sat upright in the bed she had been given. She couldn't sleep, although she had pretended to. Just so she could be alone. Her sleeplessness wasn't caused by fear, for she had nothing to be afraid of losing. Still, thoughts of terrible things spooked through her mind. Why did all this have to happen to her? Why did she have to cause all this grief to the ones around her? She was lost. She had lost it all and had nothing left to live for. Cruelty. That's what it was. And she just didn't care anymore.

A broken glass still lay in the wet rags on the ground, though one piece of the puzzle was missing. Not that anyone would care to try and reassemble it. The young girl with her bright blonde hair looked at the shattered piece of glass in her hand. It was sharp and there was blood on its edge, just like there was some seeping from a shallow, line-shaped cut on her wrist which was placed right beside her artery. Yashia had been crying at first, but it seemed to have done her more harm than good. Now she didn't even have her tears left to be with, and she felt truly broken. The emptiness that filled her was insufferable, and she was ready to end it all.

She was ready to make the final cut when suddenly she heard a creaking noise. Yashia quickly pulled up the sheets and hid beneath them, peeking at the opening door through her narrowly opened eyes. She was somewhat shocked to this man sneaking about this later. Luther, the elderly paladin - and mentor of her first and now lost love - was the only one to have returned from the 'witch hunt' in the woods. He was so severely wounded that he had been on the brink of death. Yet now, he was here. Leaning against the doorpost and barely able to stand, he was watching her while she 'slept'. Though he barely knew her at all, he cared enough to endure his pains just to see if she was alright.

It did not take long before a priestess took note of the old holy warrior of the Morninglord, and removed him in an almost motherly nursing way. Going on about how he couldn't do this in this state. The door closed and her room was dark again. Yashia felt the tears coming back to her eyes, and tossed the glass shard to the ground for it to be reunited with the rest of them. She cried herself to sleep, unable to finish what she had started. In the dream that followed, the words she had promised her love to remember on the day they were parted became clear to her as dawn. And her hope, her will to go on, was renewed.


That was then, nine years ago. It was hope that had filled the emptiness within her with a sense of purpose. But on this stormy night in the druids' glade of Sundren's valley, not the memory nor her prayers were enough to make Yashia feel whole again.

[Kaeldorn]

When Yashia awoke the next day, this feeling of her life, her soul being incomplete, had not just passed overnight as she thought it would. The wandering woman traversed the woods, but their natural beauty was now wasted on her. She came to the Trade Post to find some distraction, but none of the talk she got involved in could hide her sorrowful state, neither from others nor from herself. Although Dimenin, whom she had started to get along with quite well, did offer a delicate elven ear for Yashia to spill her heart out to. Which she did...

Her family, her childhood friends, her aspirations for a future, her first love, all gone because of her ignorance. Her paladinhood, from which she fell due to her inability not only to do the right thing, but to do it the right way. Her friendship with Karthus ended with her watching powerlessly as he succumbed to his mad visions. Her bond with Lauan - the closest thing to a mother-daughter relationship she would ever have - broken, because she lacked the dedication and discipline needed to teach her what it was to embrace a life of doing good. Sehron, who had felt drawn to her and whose heart she crippled by continuously keeping him close. That, while she knew she would never fulfil his wishes and their differences made sticking together as they were impossible. And now Cirion, whom she had unintentionally swayed into caring deeply for her. Who had given her a dream of true love, which he really wanted to give, but guilt and feelings for another kept him from devoting himself to her.

Of all the good things that happened to her, none ever lasted. She still had her cause, but what was it worth if she could never feel happy as a person? To have something, anything to hold on to that she knew would remain there, no matter what. That was all she wanted for herself, and fate seemed to deny it to her. Yashia's love and care was seeping from her soul like a river that runs dry, with no more water to flow through it. And she felt it. Or rather, she suffered from the ever waning strength of the feelings themselves. The fallen paladin was afraid of losing herself.

Dimenin had no idea what she could do to help her, but in her frustrations said just the thing that her friend needed. That she would never find a lasting love if she didn't want to be selfish. That love itself was an urge that could not go hand in hand with a life of duty. Yashia's hope of old was awakened and she spoke up against the elven woman's statement, convinced that there had to be a way. While in disagreement, Yashia was grateful for the words. She remained broken, but realized that it was not irreversible. There was still a way for her to fully become herself again, and one man who could make it happen.

[Kaeldorn]

Although some of her faith in a better future was regained, she still didn't feel fine. With a more dire emptiness within her, Yashia had forgotten to fill her stomach. She didn't eat for a couple of days. It came costly to her physical well-being, and at some point, the fallen paladin passed out in the middle of the Trading Post. The loss of consciousness was only a short one, and when her eyes opened she saw that she was lucky. Cybil and other kind connections had seen her collapse. They immediately tended to her, bringing some foods to strengthen her besides Dimenin's apple and nuts she already had. The Favored of Ilmater saw that more was amiss, but Yashia didn't let any of it be known. In her trying to protect Sundren, she couldn't show that she so easily faltered. Those were weaknesses that could easily be exploited by her enemies, as she had discovered in past times. Cybil couldn't pry for very long, however, because Yashia's saviour soon arrived to further fuel her vigor...

Many weeks passed and things slowly changed for the better. Kelena kept away from the valley for an enduring period of time and Cirion grew more and more attached to Yashia, which filled her with renewed reason to live. She went back to renting her old room she once shared with Sehron, the largest and most exquisite place in the Comfort. This time, it was so that she could have a place to stay close by her new companion in life, but it didn't take long before Cirion and her simply began to pick either room for them to spend the night together. Contrary to what some would believe and to what both of them actually wanted for themselves, Yashia kept her path to return to paladinhood open, her celibacy intact.

Yet the wandering woman gone astray was not the only one trying to remain true to her vows. Cirion also had a wish to reclaim his status of being a paladin, but knowing that his oaths would be difficult if not impossible for Yashia to live with, he was careful in hinting at his need to be there for other women as well. To romance them in Sune's name. Yashia persistently denied this necessity, claiming he could show his care for them without intimacy. It was only a matter of time before her road of high expectations revealed to be fraught with disappointment yet again.

Several days after Cybil's freedom had been bought with gold from the Temple and the Thayans, the latter of which had supposedly had a hand in arranging the capture and conveniently appeared on the scene to make an exchange, Yashia and Cirion had a quiet talk at the Exigo Post. At first it seemed perfectly normal to her, but as it went on Cirion began to sound a little too eager to tell her that no matter what happened or what she would hear, Yashia would be his only true love. It became painfully apparent to her that there was something he was not telling. She pleaded him to tell her himself whatever it was that was going through his mind, for if she found out that way she would at least have him near to comfort her. Seeing the truth in her eyes and in her words, Cirion spoke, letting her know that there was another woman he had grown fond of. Yashia fainted yet again, but now for a much longer time. Haunted by dark, inescapable nightmares.

[Kaeldorn]

When she awoke in room number three of the Comfort, Cirion's place, it was clear as day that it all hadn't just been a bad dream. Yashia was drained and devitalized, and alone. With the greatest of effort, she got up from the bed and walked outside. Into the hallway, down the stairs and through the inn's doors. Then finally, the breaking spirit headed towards the Triumvirate temple across the street. She needed help, and soon.

Almost there, Yashia came across Cazen and Annie, who were leaving the temple. She really wanted to get in there as soon as possible, but not only would it be rude to walk by a concerned friend without giving them a chance to see what they could do, it also provided her with an opportunity to catching her breath. There was no real time to elaborate just how she felt, but the talk proved fruitful nonetheless. The woman she had hoped to find, Cybil, was inside. But so her soul mate, who could probably do even more to fight the fallen paladin's most immediate troubles. The urge to continue became irresistable. Goodbyes were said, and Yashia stumbled into the temple with as much haste as she could muster.

And stumble she did. Only having set a few steps inside, the desperate blonde failed to maintain balance and slipped. A kind elven man whom she had never met approached, gave her assistance to stand.

"Cirion... where is he?" she asked, unable to think of anything or anyone else right now.

He didn't know exactly, but had seen him go to the more northern wing of the temple along with Cybil. The brown-skinned elf guided her there, seeing she could not even stand by herself anymore. "I am called Ru'umel," he said, introducing himself on the way there, "May I have your name?"

"Yashia." was her reply, simple but meaningful, sparing her energy by not speaking all too much.

"Ah, I see." he spoke in a tone resembling enlightenment. "When I first encountered those two in here I believed them to be a couple, but then your name came up and it all got fairly confusing to me, as you can imagine."

Yashia didn't really hear what he was saying, her mind elsewhere, clouded and unclear. "The Kitchen. Cybil often uses the kitchen..."

Ru'umel was unknown here, and at first unaware where exactly they should go. The woman he was almost carrying pointed with an index finger to a door. The door that they opened and entered. The door that, quite unsurprisingly, led to the kitchen.

The image that lay in wait behind it was shocking to both sides. Cybil was nowhere to be found, but Cirion was there. He was keeping the smithswoman Tayien company. The same she had protected in the Viridale on her missions for the Legion. The same who had put a lot of hard work into making her worn and torn chain shirt like new again. A woman she got along with. And now, she was holding hands with her Cirion, standing in way too close quarters for Yashia's comfort. And Yashia, she was the last person they had hoped or expected to come in at this moment.

[Kaeldorn]

All were silent for what seemed like an eternity. This couldn't be true, it was just an extension of her nightmare. Cirion, her love knight, would never really want to be with another like he was with her. The illusion and quiet were broken by one and the same person. "I could give all kinds of false explanations and claim that this is not what it seems, Yashia." sounded Tayien's voice. "But I won't lie to you. This is exactly what it seems."

The fallen paladin of Lathander fell even further, to her knees, when Ru'umel momentarily lost his grip on the arm over his shoulder and all of Yashia's strength was seeped away in trying to believe she still had her place in this world as she had been before. She bent over, shivering powerlessly. At the mercy of whatever powers would claim her.

Cirion quietly let go of Tayien to lower himself by the side of one he had called his true love. The only thing he really wanted right now was to try and heal her wounds, but he couldn't find the words to do it. The Sunite embraced Yashia, whose skin tone was decoloured, and whose demeanour now spread a sense of hopelessness rather than hope. Where most in her place would have pushed him aside and scorned him, she still wasn't able to, and submissively let herself be held without it giving her any real comfort.

Ru'umel departed, considering this a private matter between the three, and Tayien continued her speech. Whether it was in defense of herself or to help the victim of fate to move on after this did not matter. "I'm sorry, Yashia. I just needed to feel cared for, someone to be with. And Cirion... he just seemed exactly right. Willing to give me what I longed for."

At that moment, a thin cord that kept Yashia hanging in there just snapped. What did dreams matter when none of them ever came true? All they ever led to was disappointment. Why try to be strong and persist in upholding values that will, in the end, only let you down. Make you lose more. Why expect a better day to come when it is so much less painful to just embrace the darkness and forget about all torments of the past, rather than trying to learn from them?

"But there is one thing you should know... Before we started this, he did make one thing absolutely clear to me. That no matter what would happen between us or how we cared for eachother, none could ever take your place." Tayien spoke again, but her words fell on deaf ears. Yashia rose up, releasing herself from Cirion's hold. Her face wasn't angered, sad or happy. It was empty. Expressionless. Determined, she stepped towards the wench that tried to take the only thing she lived for away, her hand on the hilt of A Knight's Tale gone awry.

In a single, swift motion, the blade was unsheathed and raised above her head, ready to be thrusted down into the miscreant who, unlike normal, now only wore simple clothing. The otherwise so observant corner of Yashia's eye didn't see that Cybil came into the kitchen, nor that Cirion threw himself inbetween Tayien and herself. Her always available ear did not hear his cry to stop what she was doing.

The swing was made, and it struck true. But not on her intended target. She had sliced a gaping hole through the chainmail of the Sunite. A thin trail of blood making its way down his shoulder and over the front of his chest. None in the room had seen it coming, or wanted any of this to happen. Yashia, stung by a pain much worse than the betrayal, lost the grip on her sword. No later than the blade hit the tiles with a clang, she followed. Collapsing like her hopes did before.

Her first act of surrender to the Lady of Loss was made.

[Kaeldorn]

Voices beckoned her. Voices in her head, from the hollow darkness that engulfed her. The majority inaudible, faint and distant. There were some she could hear and understand, though only barely.

Cries of those she had made to suffer, and suffer still.

"Yashia. What did you get yourself into? I loved you. Hells, even after you filling me with false hopes and constantly pushing me away, I still do. You thought you felt the same for me, but you didn't. Never as much. And now you are ready to give yourself to that lowly heart breaking piece of sh- ... To throw everything you are away for him?! He will pay for this, Yashia. I don't care what you say, by Hanali and all of the Seldarine, that Sunite is a heartless mockery of love. And he will pay for what he has done to you."

Pleas of those who tried to keep her among them, but in vain. So they too would lose because of her in the end.

"Sis, please listen to me. We still care about you, all of us do. It might not always feel that way, but he still loves you too. I'm sure of it. He would be crazy if he didn't. Don't give up, Yashia. There is always hope. Never forget that."

Guidance of those who knew what was best for her, whose words only fell on deaf ears attached to a stubborn head.

"I know how deeply you care for him, and I understand, but that shouldn't affect your better judgement. It will hurt to realize this, but I'm saying this to you because you are like a Sister to me. There is so much you can still accomplish, so much you can give to the people that others can't. You have the heart to make a great paladin, Yashia. Answer to the love Lathander has given you. Have faith in your Lord, because faith is the only love that is limitless if you just devote yourself to it."

Scorn from those who she had given a taste of how things could be, which left nothing more than a sour memory when they were abandoned.

"You don't expect me to feel sorry, do you? I don't care. I tried to care for a very long time, but all I get back is angry faces and bad mouthing for the choices I make. You wanted me to choose, and now you hate me for making what you think is the wrong choice. I think I made the right choice, because I see things now as they really are. You tried to teach me to love and now you are destroying yourself because of your own silly feelings. You are funny, Yashia. I laugh at you."

There was one that overwhelmed the rest of them. Unknown, but one that was calm and soothing. That didn't try to move her by human emotions, but that offered her peace. A simple step away from all the hurt she had gone through. Then she noticed that it was not really a voice, but rather a feeling that made all the others fade away. A sense that was much greater, much closer to her than any of the others. It was nothing and everything that mattered at the same time. It was all around her, and far on its way to settle inside. As a host in its service. Nothing and no one could reach her, but one distant voice desperately tried to pierce its way through the fortress of night she lay in.

"Stay with me, please Yashia... You are more dear to me than anyone else. Because of you I have changed, become a better man. And I will change more for you. You don't deserve this. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. To cause you pain is the last thing I ever wanted."

It quieted down for a moment, but quickly it ensured that it had not yet given up.

"You are the one for me, my true love. I don't want to live my life without you. I need you by my side, and I swear to you that I will do anything to make you happy. I will stop what I have been doing, I will give up my chance to regain my status. Anything. All I truly want and need is you."

[Kaeldorn]

The army of one, an army of darkness, dispersed and capitulated for now. Yashia's eyes opened, and while she had to get used to the bright light and could not see for a short time, she knew where she was. And it was where she wanted to be. Cirion was cradling her in his arms, holding her head up slightly with one hand to look into his soul mate's eyes. He smiled warmly, more than relieved to see her return to him. The little voice had been right. He did love her still.

The fallen paladin of the Morninglord rested where she was to recover for a while, but when she regained her senses fully, she could no longer bear to see the mark on Cirion's chest, fresh blood continuing to flow slowly onto his armour. She focused, and through strength of will and faith alone closed the wound with a blueish glow coursing through his body from her hands. Her Liege continued to support her too.

Cirion was touched by Yashia's caring, but spoke to her in a sad voice. "I had wanted to keep the scar there to remind me. So I wouldn't make the same mistake ever again."

"Nothing should remind us." she replied softly, sitting up in his lap. "I wish none of this had ever happened."

They were alone in this room, and quietly conversed on, unaware of whatever was happening just outside. The door was guarded most of the time, although one curious little hin managed to take a peek inside before being ordered away. It didn't matter to them. They could only really think of one thing: they were together again. Yashia didn't think at all about the place they were in, and just had to let her feelings show. Like only they could with all their armour on.

But like all good moments come to an end, this one did also. Cybil, while understanding all too well how they felt, could not fully appreciate their behaviour inside her temple. Yashia was embarrassed, and expressed her regrets numerous times until she and Cirion decided it was their time to leave. To go home.

[Kaeldorn]

The next morning, Yashia walked into the trading post. She found him, her love whom she had let down last night. Refused to give to him yet one thing that he desired. He looked to be in terrible shape, and she sorrowfully knelt down next to him, thinking she was the cause of it all by denying him. When they whispered however, it soon became clear that he held no grudges against her whatsoever and instead believed himself to have been in the wrong. Her own regrets slightly quelled and her hesitation of him wanting her near her proven unwarranted, she moved closer to him and took his head in her lap and caressed his cheek. The tiefling, Zack, questioned how they could look so exhausted from supposedly doing something while Cirion was in such pain. She tried not to mind Zack's disgusting mockery of their situation, as she dismissed it to be his usual general rudeness at the time. Yashia was still worried sick for how Cirion came to be like this, and those worries did prove not to be misplaced.

Apparently, Cirion had awoken inside the temple of Helm in terrible pain in his crotch. Mutilated, possibly never to see his dream with her come true... And then, there was the gap in his memories, most likely indicating a meeting with death. The last he remembered was looking into a lead given to him by the loose tongued Zack. Upon his investigation, he found little except a corpse with markings on it. And Zack, joined by Lauan, approaching him.

Yashia remembered that the Thayan Knight, her former protégé gone down a path of corruption, had subtly threatened Cirion and her for their support of fair traders competing against Lauan's master, Pyras. Now, she had put those threats to action. And Zack was in on it with her, his comments from before suddenly making sense. He was lashing out at them for their misery. Amused even, not even knowing the stinging irony of Yashia having turned down her lover's advances because she was not ready yet, while now he might never be anymore. While these thoughts crossed her mind, the tiefling had the nerve to call for her to end her closeness with Cirion, just to ask in a demanding tone to trade quartz crystals with her. With a deep raging fury within, she sneered back at Zack. Saying some things she would normally never say, she tried to make that bastard to leave them alone.

And there Zack stood. Ever since she got to the Post, he had been tormenting her, taking low blows at her, kicks while she was already down. She suspected him of being involved in the Thayan plot that had led to the assault on her love. And now... Now he commandeered Nerena around in a gentle tone, to have her 'willingly' write a report - cited by Zack to the letter - to slander Yashia for giving Cirion a comforting kiss while he was feeling miserable already. According to the tiefling, and written by Nerena, she was 'chasing away traders' by doing so. He even forced the slave girl to sign with her own name. No one would believe it if he wrote it himself, after all. Aliria the barbarian, Richard, and whatever Sentinels that might have been watching were the only witnesses.

Cirion wished to do something to stop him, to bring him in front of the Triumvirate for what he did to the woman who was supposed to be under the temple's protection. He could no longer bear seeing Nerena suffer like this, but he could not do anything himself. He watched in agony, his physical state not allowing him to act. Yashia shared his pain, and though she tried to convince him that nothing could truly be done, it wouldn't comfort him. But he deserved it, she had to at least give him a sense of peace during his recovery. Some anger boiling deep down within her, a will to punish Zack for what he did. But Yashia didn't act on that, because Cirion asked her not to.

The blonde fallen paladin approached the tiefling. He defensively jumped backwards, an attempt to escape confrontation, Yashia knew. Without word, she snatched his wrist as she pushed her other hand under his arm pit, easily subduing him. Zack screamed and yelled for help, for anyone to just help him. She took him with her to speak with him at the Triumvirate, for pursuing to impose his will on the former slave girl Nerena whom he kept trying to drag away from their better influence. This is what Yashia told to the Sentinels at the Post, and any city guards she met along the way. She did not say everything, but she spoke truthfully. And none of them seemed willing to do anything to act against her.

The terrified screams echoed all the way through the city, until the Fallen Paladin turned around at the doors of the Triumvirate and shouted at him to shut up, with her eyes saying that she really meant it. He dared not challenge her, and could only tremble in silence, following Yashia meekly into the temple.

Once inside, she took Zack in the middle of the Triumvirate's training room. Yashia saw that he was so afraid he couldn't even keep standing on his own strength. Regardless of her contempt for the man and the things she believed him guilty of, she couldn't just leave him there, and firmly but not harshly helped him towards one of the cushioned walls so he could sit down and find some ease. She had wanted to soothe him somewhat before High Adjudicator Melchior would arrive as asked, but then Cirion came stumbling in. The fallen paladin of Sune had come to see if she was alright, badly straining himself by marching the long path into the city. Yashia left Zack behind her and darted off towards him, supporting him to settle down next to her. They rested together, and waited for what was to come.

[Kaeldorn]

It seemed to take hours to them both, but even longer to black haired and hearted tiefling, who was cowering in fear in a corner. This sacred place a true torment to him. But High Adjudicator Melchior did arrive as was requested, and Yashia and Cirion told him all that had happened, with Zack attempting to interrupt fueled by his botched perceptions. Yashia knew she had acted emotionally rather than justly, yet she would do it all again if he asked her to. The last part was something she felt forced to admit, lest Cirion would have to pay more later if it weren't revealed straight away.

But pay they did. They were sent away for imprisonment. All three of them. From the cells they were appointed to, Yashia could not even see or hear Cirion. He was far out of reach. They were separated and confined, unable to find one another and seek comfort. All that she had was her little space between four walls, with one small doorway barring her freedom on each side. The former guardian of good who had lost her way found herself sitting in a corner, afraid of the devouring lack of light this abode cursed her with. Her ties to sanity slowly snapping, she was filled with the feeling that she should rid the world of this vile being that wanted to call himself a man. The one directly responsible for her separation. Zack.

Yashia stood up from where she was and stepped forth to the doorway, the only barrier that kept her and him apart. Her stature was violent, though as it was with Tayien, her expression was not. A piercing but emotionless gaze was what she threw at the tiefling when her hands clenched into fists. That was all she could do, because the bastard kept his distance like the coward he was. Which may have been better for Yashia's case in the long run, but she did not care at all right now.

"What're you staring at?" he said in his usual rude tone, thinking she caught some bad form of the 'prison crazies'. But she did not reply, merely forming a toothy grin with which her eyes did not seem to cooperate.

"Get those eyes away! If we are going to be inmates, at least don't torture Zack. Zack will get enough of that later, just for being different." the tiefling continued in an aggravated tone. "You on the other hand, the only real criminal here, will walk away soon without losing a thing."

"Wrong, demon spawn." Yashia's hollow voice now responded. "You have no idea. I have lost... everything."

She then came to her senses, and found a space to sit down on the cold and damp floor of her prison cell. Her voice was weak and shaky while she dug beneath her clothing to clutch her hand around the holy symbols hanging from her neck.

"... almost."

Zack rambled on some more, but the convicted woman did not truly listen to what he said. She was tired, and laid down on the floor with her eyes ever facing the foul tiefling who was now her neighbour. For no other reason than not to feel completely alone in this unwelcoming dungeon. She had confessed and told everything she could, and would be released in the morning. And then she would see him again, hopefully not having been punished too much in his already dire condition.

[Kaeldorn]

Morning after morning passed, but in the ever dark cells, Yashia really couldn't keep track of time. She kept telling herself to believe in seeing the sun in the open skies outside again, that a day would come to put an end to the eternal night down here.

When she was finally allowed to set foot outside again, it was beautiful. The rising sun greeted her just as she had imagined it. Her prayers to be spared were answered. The warmth that shone upon the just released prisoner only encouraged her to look for the company she had longed for all those days, regardless of her neglected physical shape. Taking his own health into consideration, he would most likely be staying at the Comfort. Following her hunch, that was where she went.

Old Betty had heard the rumors that were spread throughout most of the military quarter inside the city, but was nevertheless pleased to see the well known face of Yashia return to her not so humble abode. They greeted, but their talk was short. The blonde had come to see someone else after all, and so was told that he resided in the tavern part of the inn. The woman who was at that moment tending to the customers also recognized Yashia, and offered to her all kinds of food to help with her malnourished state. But her hunger was again of a different nature. It was only sated when, with the waitress' help, she found him sitting in a quiet corner by himself.

There Cirion was doing something she had never seen him do. He was practicing on a mandoline in the arts that his goddess to held in high esteem. Yashia watched him with a smile while she quietly approached and he at first did not notice her do so. But in the end it was inevitable that he looked up to see her and almost immediately set his instrument aside and invited her to sit in his lap. She told him what she had gone through and he listened with concern. The pain he had been in was much less than hers, since he had found means to quell it. The cold chills that numbed his body were not what his love needed now though, and upon her asking he couldn't do anything but remove the ring that caused them. And instead he found soothing in something else.

During the days that followed, it seemed as if their weaknesses only strengthened their bond. Yashia nursed the fallen paladin of Sune as if it were the most important thing to do, which it was to her. At the same time, she showed to him that they could have happiness even when everything was against them. Cirion in turn stopped being pressing in more physical areas and shared his care in its purest form. Even giving her the symbol of Sune he had received when he first joined in service of his new found deity that valued love over lust. Which she wore ever since.

It did not take long before they were both better again, though with that, so did Cirion's desires return. He tried courting her more subtly and expressed his needs less directly, but he still received the same answer. She needed more time. He told Yashia that he would respect that, as she too had given him time to prepare himself for a life with her.

The wait was, for Yashia, much less easing than she would have expected it to be. He was gone for a couple of days after that night, and did not tell her where he went. The mentally strained blonde spent most of the while she waited at the Trading Post of Exigo with a sense that something was wrong, but she could not quite tell what. She began to doubt in herself, wondered if he had enough of her endless list of demands when she never really gave him anything back for it. Arawen came to talk to her several times to give her a peptalk, but none of it really was enough to take away that odd gut feeling she had.

[Kaeldorn]

Then, one night, Cirion returned. And he saw right away that something was up to cause Yashia to feel lesser as he had seen several times before. To the panicing Yashia's insecurities he gave solace, and explained that they were unfounded, because he had only taken a while away to think about his future in the Viridale. And that he wanted it to be with her. They sat silently, close together for a couple of hours. But then, he said that he had to leave again. Very shortly this time, as it was only to go get something for her that he wanted to give. One hug, then he was on his way.

He came back, and found only a fraction of the friends he would have liked to see gathered were present. But he had promised this to her now and once before, a time that had faded from her memories. He could wait no longer. He would give her what she dreamed of, which was part his own wish as well. A moment of ease was needed for him to prepare for this leap of faith, a big step in his life. He knelt down before his dearest, and with his head tilted to look at her sitting before him, began to speak.

"We have been through a lot together. We've had our hard moments and shared our suffering, but it was all worth it. Just to have you near me. I have grown to love you more than I love my own life. And I want to spend it with you more than anything."

He then reached into his pockets to reveal a small, shiny object. And he showed the golden band to her. "Yashia, will you marry me?"

These words. She had waited for them for so long. Initially she simply kept sitting as she was. With a wide smile all over her face and tears of joy rolling down her cheeks, Yashia let the thought sink in as all that remained of her doubts was cast away in an instant. Some seconds later, she rose to her knees and swiftly let herself fall into his embrace, where she held her eyes close to his, gazing into them filled with her joy. She could have screamed it out loud, so happy she was to hear him propose to her. But she didn't.

"Yes... Yes, Cirion. I will marry you." she simply said to him in a soft and sweet voice.

And then they kissed, as they so often did. But this was a special one. This was their moment and nothing could break it. Not even Osclow's cheerful speech, who managed to smile at the end of this otherwise dreary day. When he saw that it ended for now, the bard immediately took the opportunity to claim rights for a performance at their wedding, which Yashia happily granted. Cirion and her wanted to say much to each other about possible plans for their future, but their minds were too clouded to really have a talk.

They took it to her room, where they teased some on the couch until they ended up on the floor in front of the softly crackling flames in the hearth with not much on in terms of clothing, and still he did not push her or even show the will to do so. Completely gentle and only giving her exactly what she wanted for now. For the first time in many years, Yashia felt true happiness. Everything was perfect.

[Kaeldorn]

Had she finally found it? Something dear that would last? The young blonde in her mid twenties who had lost far too much for her own good had high hopes. Most all of her doubts were utterly eliminated on that night her love proposed to her. For once, Yashia felt truly confident about herself. A confidence nothing could break.

Or was there?

Days later, the fallen paladin walked the streets of the Military Ward from the inn that she resided in. The district was little different from the usual, until her ear intercepted the gossip between two nobles standing by the statue that was oft used as a meeting place by the city's more well faring inhabitants. Words were spoken of a large armed band of adventurers of all sorts and sizes that had returned from a skirmish against the Necropolis. And not all of them had made it out alive. Yashia, who hadn't seen Cirion for a day or so, rushed to the Triumvirate Temple Barracks to see if he was there. He couldn't be taken away from her. Not now, not ever.

There had to be something good that could be unending...

Yashia made her way through the gathered crowd that stood and watched, to get a glimpse of the living and fallen herself. Many were there. Etria, Osclow and Annie. Lauan, Pyras and several others. Tamryn prayed to Torm and stood over the bodies of the fallen. Daelus and Cybil, both people Yashia called friends, lay beaten, bruised and lifeless on the temple's floor. Cirion stood nearby, stricken with an expression of pain. Pain for the ones he lost, perhaps. Or regret. Regret for having failed to keep them alive. She wanted to go to him, but something kept her from moving at all as she leaned over the small wall that made up the barrier around the training space for the champions of the True.

Life was not infinite. And while resurrection could work miracles in cases like this, a single sentence spooked through her mind. A collection of words that worried her more than Daelus' and Cybil's return to the living right now. "Till death do us part."

And indeed, after several hours long of effort on the favored soul's part, it appeared that death had not parted the two souls from the land of the living altogether. Daelus didn't stir, but breathed nonetheless. In his lack of consciousness he was completely calm and without much concern for where his next step would take him. Cybil, on the other hand, awoke immediately with her eyes wide open. Her hands reached near her stomach as she appeared to suffer an ache. And while her god taught her to bear it, for a moment there she seemed afraid. Until she threw up her fears and left them to stain the normally so clean tiles of the temple. Then it was gone, and she smiled in relief. As did the majority that was still present. The minions of Velsharoon would claim none on this day.

But Yashia had seen something she recognized on the face of Cybil, whose face was even more pale than usual in those few seconds that scared her. She was scared beyond death that she would lose something. The possibility of a dream shattering in front of her eyes, and inside of her belly. Was she expecting?

In the room where the ill and broken recovered under the care of the Ilmatari, Yashia's suspicions were confirmed. Cybil told that she was pregnant. But from whom? In the months they had known each other, she had never seen her even do more than hang out with any man who wasn't spoken for already. Actually, not really anyone other than her own Cirion. But he wouldn't...

Yashia couldn't help it, she tried to fight it but it settled inside of her again. Doubt. Doubt if she was enough, if she was worthy to have anything to hold that was hers alone. It had to go away, she had to make it go away. With her best efforts as an amateur actress she pretended to the outside world that nothing was wrong, and asked with Cybil with a smile who the lucky man - her secret admirer - was. The favored of Ilmater didn't face her directly, and seemed a bit embarrassed when she said she had been seduced by a stranger.

But she wasn't as good. A gut feeling along with Cybil's unease told Yashia that she was not telling her the truth, or at the very least not the whole of it. But why would she lie about it? If not to - No, it couldn't be true. Cybil, and especially he would not do that to her. She would find out why it was, and she had to do it soon to make that feeling go away. But it was not that.

[Kaeldorn]

For days, a few weeks even, she practiced for perfection. The aspiring bard used what talents she had to pretend. Not to lie, because speaking falsely was not her strength at all. Just acting, doing something she was good at to uncover and secure a comforting truth. In the solitude of her own room and even while venturing out into the woods she spoke her lines that none could hear until it was time. Her facial expressions and gestures she trained even in the presence of others, in the middle of crowds and in the trading grounds of Exigo. None paid any real attention to her, aside from casting her a glance one would throw a woman gone mad. Most conveniently, all ignored her efforts.

All but one. A complete stranger curiously came to speak to her. A tall and skinny dark-skinned man she hadn't ever met before. He didn't seem to feel the need to introduce himself or even greet her, though he most certainly was no celebrity. But while he had no reason to care, he talked to her with a voice that showed the greatest interest.

"You act differently from most of the people I have seen. The motions you make with your hands and what I think to be emotions coming forth from your face do not define what you perceive. What is the purpose of this behaviour?"

"Huh?" Yashia gave him a clueless look like only she can do, her mouth opened a little bit, eyes a little more open than usual and her brows travelling a little upwards. It was not an act. She was sincerely surprised to see anyone care. "Why do you want to know, sir?"

The man calmly answered her question, taking his time to put his thoughts to words. "I have learned much in my lifetime, but little in terms of what most of mankind would take for granted and never really think about. I seek to understand the furthest reaches of the human soul. To know why people do as they do. What their motives are to walk their path of destiny. What drives them. Their feelings. Yours appear eccentric, yet are unexplained. Something of a mystery that is only waiting. Waiting to be revealed by the right person, in the right place, at the right time. It intrigues me."

Yashia was at first taken aback by the remarkable flow of words that entered her ears. Though upon recollecting herself she gave the man a small smirk. "Never seen an actress at work?"

"An actress?" He shook his head. "No. I think not."

She eyed him up and down once more to figure out if he was pulling her leg, but it didn't look he was. And even so, she didn't want to take what risk there was to treat him with disrespect, and thus tried to explain. "Oh. Well... I am preparing to pretend something in such a way that the ones seeing it will believe what I want them to believe. It's an art that can be used to entertain people."

"You say it in a way that makes me believe your reasons are not the same." he replied.

A short duration of silence fell between them as the man's yellowy eyes saw through her with his penetrating gaze. Yashia knew he was right and didn't want to lie to him, but she couldn't tell him what was going on either. It would put her plan at risk, the only sure-fire way to restore the security she craved.

"Man's darkest secrets oft bring about his doom." He continued on as stern as he had been their whole conversation, although he somehow managed to not sound frightening in any way. "Some leave this world mourned, others celebrated, and others still are completely ignored. Yet while a life should end when it no longer has meaning, no life should ever come to an end in a meaningless way. For it is a preparation for the greater existence that follows after."

"Why are you telling me all this?" sounded her voice, as insecure as she really was, and was trying to hide all this time.

"My intention is to guide people to their intended deaths, as the Scribe has written them. Some might look to what you do for entertainment, but I cannot imagine that anyone would look to be fooled if unasked for. Judging by the armour you wear and the steel you carry, I think it is fair to assume death is never far away from where you are. You should be cautious to ensure that it does not claim you too soon."

"But how do you know? How can anyone know for sure when a life is no longer worth living?" Yashia swallowed once, before uncomfortably asking one more question that this talk awakened within her. "Is it... emptiness? The loss of feeling any purpose that really matters?"

The man's face sported a certain strange kind of enthusiasm that hadn't been seen before. "That is one of the things I am attempting to discover. If one can feel ahead of time the coming of an end to his or her own life. But it is dangerous to let emotion control completely the choices that you make. And even if I knew that one's time had come, I wouldn't speak of it. Because I have no desire to make anyone fear their inevitable demise and give them false hope to avoid it. All that I can say, is that all shall be as the Lord wills it. If you are to live, then live you shall. But if it is destined to be over..."

"Then there is nothing to prevent it from happening. And no way back..." Yashia finished his line.

A weak smile formed some wrinkles on the man's otherwise smooth face. "Precisely. None will defy the spinnings of fate." He laid his hand on the symbol of his god, and his smile quickly faded to make way for a deep frown that was close to a glare. Probably unintended for her. "And any who try shall fail."

With a zealous posture unfitting to his frail build, the man gave her a final glance and turned to leave. Before he could, however, Yashia spoke to him again. "Sir... you seem wise and knowledgeable. May I have your name?" When he turned back to look at her, she uneasily shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "In case I need someone... impartial to talk to."

"My parents called me Atheleas. And my inherited family name is Sanneset." He replied.

"Okay. Thank you, Atheleas. For the talk." She said with a faint smile. "I am Yashia."

Atheleas gave a nod. "Farewell, Yashia. Until we meet again, if fate allows it."

She raised her hand to about shoulder height to wave him goodbye, but the priest of Jergal already walked away without looking any longer. He must have had important duties to attend to.

[Kaeldorn]

While she could have, and perhaps should have, Yashia did not change course. It'd be much better to just play Cybil a fool and take a slap in the face, than it would be to let her own doubts slowly eat her up and kill her from the inside out. He would forgive his true love her mistake of ever having even the slightest bit of doubt in his loyalty. She had to go through with this. Not only for the sake of her own ease of mind, but also to be able to give him her unquestionable feelings of belonging. So he could finally find his happiness. With her.

Cybil was at the Trading Post. Yashia had just seen her as she made her way through the place to get where she was now. What she had chosen to be the stage of her act. She took the scroll she would use in hand. The words and symbols on it were familiar. While she could not naturally cast the powers it contained, the way it was wielded was imprinted on her memories as if Kathryn Blake had taught her only yesterday. When Sehron had gone for a dangerous espionage mission against the Sharite elves of the Moth'Oira, and the ring of their bonding - the engagement ring he gave to her - had caused her finger to bleed. With Katie's help, as straining as it was to her, Yashia had managed to uncover his whereabouts. And it was Cirion who helped her find him. The elf's body was broken by the crushing force of a dire bear's claws, but he was alive.

Katie... The red headed dragon descendant was missed by many, but many of those had already left Sundren and Yashia's life by now as well. Once everyone's friend, but now nearly forgotten. She too had had a deep relationship with Cirion, but misjudgement had torn it apart. It was strange how things had turned out. Yashia had given Cirion support to carry on after his parting with Katie, and befriended him. Then, those two that were separated had reunited her with Sehron, the one Yashia thought she would be with back then, only for both him and Katie to leave her life later. And now, while she still did keep the symbol Sehron's love for her in her possession as a memory, the fallen paladin wore Cirion's engagement ring instead.

Yashia smiled softly at the recollection of her memories. The link between the scroll she was holding and her friends of old, her love and her life. Her past and her future. A future with Cirion, which she would soon set in stone. This was the moment of truth. The leap of faith onto the path of no return. The wanderer, who sought a sure path to what was meant to be, was prepared. She read the scroll thoroughly and spoke the incantations it contained, to transfer a thought to Cybil. To meet with her. Urgently. Alone.

[Kaeldorn]

By a silent section of the crossroads, Yashia stood in wait of the imminent arival of a rival. Or at least, that was what she had to make herself believe for this moment, to better immerse herself in her self-written role. But it all took much longer than it should. Cybil didn't come. Why? What could keep her from giving her requested presence by someone in need? Someone she knew and liked, no less. Then finally, footsteps became audible from behind. From the same road she had walked to get here. It was not who she was expecting, however.

"Is there anything wrong, Yashia? Anything you want to talk about? Or are you in need of solitude?" Etria asked.

Yashia sighed a bit in frustration, and turned her head to the side to answer. "I'd like to be alone for now."

The elf gave her a nod and returned from whence she came. And then the ranger was, for as far as she could see, on her own again. The wait was stretched to last a while longer. Though not much later, another soul approached. The voice that sounded this time was the right one.

"Yashia? You needed to see me?" said Cybil to the fallen champion of the Morninglord, who still had her back turned and seemed intent on keeping it that way for the time being.

The words she received back were strong and inquiring, though not angry just yet. "Why did you lie to me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't give me your innocence, Cybil." The agitation came. Yashia was tense, which was easy to see even without her face within sight. She turned to face the woman who had supposedly seduced her husband to be. Her hands clenched to form a fist. Her eyes were cold and expressionless, but her whole demeanour had been set aflame to grow a sense of seething fury about her. "Don't you lie to me again!"

It was working, the favored of Ilmater grew more nervous by the second. And it didn't take long for her to snap and give in. "Whoever told you only did to hurt you, Yashia. Please..."

Who told what? Nobody told her anything. Yashia was confused, but she couldn't show it or she would still have no certainty. "You had no right!" she shouted in an enraged, albeit shaky voice.

"We never meant to hurt you. He only wanted to give me some happiness. Something to hold..." Cybil spoke in panic, completely unaware of the shock that struck the woman she was speaking to. "But he still loves you Yashia. You belong together. Nothing can take that away from you!"

Until now, she hadn't believed it, though she should have known. She just wasn't enough, not good enough to be with him. Only because of his warm heart, because he cared too much to let her feel all alone in this world, Cirion had made her promises that he couldn't keep. It was too much. Too much for her to handle. Yashia cringed in mental agony and bent her knees, no longer able to keep herself standing. Even if she could have, there wouldn't really be much of a point. Just like there wasn't much of a point in anything else anymore.

Cybil, regretting deeply the pain that had been caused, came to sit by the weeping wanderer and put a hand on her shoulder that was supposed to be comforting. Yashia laid her own hand over it to hold it, but she couldn't hear any of the words being spoken to her. She slowly raised her other hand to her shoulder, and laid its fingers at Cybil's wrist. It had come back, and Yashia hadn't even noticed it herself. The darkness took a firm hold over her, that translated swiftly to the grasp of the arm, which was pulled down with great force when Yashia jerked it. Cybil hit the dusty road beneath them and cried in pain while the fair haired warrior fallen from the light drew her one-and-a-half hand sword from the sheathed, and pointed the blade downwards at the pregnant slut's womb. The follower of Ilmater weakly held up a hand and screamed for her to stop. But she had to pay. She had to feel what loss felt like, and the blade was thrusted down.

At that moment, right before the steel would strike at the unborn babes, a stronger power gained control over the broken one whose hands it were that held the weapon. Love. He may not have felt the same way about her, but she still loved him more than anything, and what she was about to do would not only punish Cybil, but also Cirion. And that was something she just couldn't do, and no god or goddess could command her to. The last instant, when that feeling entered her, Yashia changed the course of the blade. It still carved a deep wound down the woman's side, but the children were unharmed.

Cybil kept lying helplessly on the ground, throbbing in pain and still shocked by what had just happened. She was not the one who was worst off, however. It was Yashia, who looked down at the injured woman and spoke softly to her in a shaky voice.

"He... loves... you."

Yashia saw what she herself was becoming. A monster without conscience, that would destroy everything and everyone she once held dear. Her whole life had been a lie, and should have ended long ago. Her devotion to do good had only come forth by the inspirations of a few good men who had tried to tempt fate. But in the end, it was all in vain. Yashia slowly withdrew her sword arm. The skin of her face was pale and lifeless, and she shivered uncontrollably.

"My life... meaningless."

She brought her left hand to her neck, and tore the three holy symbols from it to cast them away. Two of them fell, but one she caught back in mid-air. It was the symbol of Sune. The one she had been gifted by the champion of the goddess, and the one true love she still cherised. Her hand clutched firmly around the chain as she brought the divine token close to herself. Her eyes, filled with nothing but pain, gave Cybil a final glance. And she would ask one more thing of her. The last that still mattered.

"Make him happy."

The hilt of her Knight's Tale, a story that was about to come to an end, was twisted to make the tip of the blade point straight to her own heart. A heart that was already broken and would soon die a death that would not be reversed. Because it had meaning. When she was gone, then Cirion would no longer have to sacrifice himself. Without her, he could follow his heart again.

The sword was driven into her own heart by her own hand. A surge of pain went through her when the distant voice of her love called out her name, but it faded. It all faded, and she collapsed as her life left her. This was the end. It was over.