”Your husband died at Marius’ hand. What you brought back was brought back wrong, a facsimile made to mislead and betray you. That is why I have called you ‘Miss’ Vindalis these past months.”
The words were hard, and her reaction harder still. She hadn’t wept, she hadn’t railed- had breathed in deeply of the harbor’s salt air, felt the cool wind’s passage against her cheek. Even as her mouth opened to pour empty words out, to tell him he was wrong, she knew it was hollow. It began to make sense, now.
We were wrong, the whole time, congratulating ourselves on his safe return. It was never his smile, was never him at all… just a thing made to pull us apart. And it did.
Her bones felt strangely loose inside of her. She could feel the play of muscle against leather as she stumbled to her feet, turning her rain-soaked head to the side to spit a sour mouthful of saliva into the dirt. She reeled. She trembled.
He was gone, then. Had been gone for months before she’d even suspected it.
Pale fingertips pressed into the bark of the tree, her eyes narrowing as her fist pulled away clutching hard bark. She’d gotten very, very drunk, and had every intention of brawling her way into dreamless unconsciousness… but civilization had lacked appeal once properly inebriated.
She’d gone to visit his friends. Tara and Soren. To speak to the dead, to weep with them- to weep for them, to apologize for what she’d done to the body of the man she’d loved. But distraction had stayed her course, and there was Ereleth Tremaine again, speaking in riddles- never an upfront answer.
He’d offered a fight, but bitter memory soured what would normally be a grave temptation. It was just as well. Tremaine felt pushed to it out of necessity. Had said something about it being impossible to be a friend, had spoken of jealousy- was jealous of her, for all that she once had.
Loved ones. Friends. A banner to fight under, a cause to fight for. She’d come out of so many encounters alive and well… But not this one, Tremaine. I saw it myself.
What did she have left, though, but memories now? Strahm was dead and she’d let it happen. Tia didn’t know her, Faeir was determined to kill Tremaine, and Diane kept trying to set her on fire. Orgo she’d heard nothing from in months, Edd was an infrequent part of her existence, and all her Sigil allies were busy doing Sigil things that she no longer had any part of.
She had a banner, aye. A blue field with a silver tower, the meaning of which she scarcely knew. She’d even met some of her bannermates, had wanted badly to be a part of it… had sworn an oath to do so.
If I come out of this fight alive, I’ll redouble my efforts. I’ve been distracted chasing a shadow of a man that was dead all along.
What other cause did she have now, but the one she intended to die for?
The first light of morning scarcely penetrated the heavy clouds, the cold of the rain throwing a shiver through the armored form. She felt heavy and dull. Her head was beginning to ache, her stomach still coiling in knots.
She wanted to fight, to scream, to cry, to run, but none of it would do.
Odynae Vindalis.
She’d married the man, she’d taken his name. It was all she had left of him, now.
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