Bonds That Remain (pt.3)
Petir found himself swaying in his chair after downing the last round of shots that had been ordered while listening to the bolstering laughter coming from Asger as he beat Jandar in an arm wrestling contest. Toad put a hand on his shoulder and stabilized him as she said “I’m going to go get you some water just sit tight”. Toad gave him a reassuring smile as she stood up and headed towards the bar. Petir looked across the table and saw that Adren was now testing his luck against Asger, something he knew was going to go poorly.
Petir forced himself to his feet and started heading towards the bar and felt himself stumbling slightly. As he lost his balance he felt a hand grasp his shoulder and hold him upright. Jandar put a hand over his shoulder and said “for you supposedly being harder to get drunk now you really get it done”, Petir turned to Jandar and replied sluggishly “ You try drinking what I’m drinking and you’d be on the floor by now”. As he looked at Jandar he saw the shimmering form of Ramiel standing by the exit of the tavern observing him in his bronze colored royal garments. The surrounding noise of the tavern faded away as he met the gaze of Ramiel. Jandar was making his likely quippy reply but Petir couldn’t hear a thing. He looked into Jandar’s eyes and uttered what finally broke the silence “I’m sorry”, and as he did the lively tavern faded away into the visage of a nice secluded beach. Only he and Ramiel remained and Petir took a few steps forward and sat down in the sand next to the now seemingly live Ramiel.
Ramiel sat down next to him and said “ I can feel your worry, your confliction and your fear. Tell me Petir, all of it”.
Petir sighed, clenched a handful of sand and started speaking “ I can’t help but feel like I have failed and I’m worried that I just took his life away from him. There is no peace for us, no settling down. We are burdened with a greater purpose and he shouldn’t have to carry that burden but I was scared. Scared that I would die without being useful, scared that I would be the cause of Esta’s death.”
Petir’s voice trembled with emotion as he poured out his inner turmoil to Ramiel. The weight of his guilt and fear seemed to crush him.
Ramiel listened intently, his eyes reflecting understanding and compassion. “Petir,” he began softly, “you carry a heavy burden, as we all did. But you must understand, the path of destiny is not always clear, nor is it free from pain. You made a choice out of love and fear, and while it may bring consequences, it does not define you.”
He reached out a hand, resting it gently on Petir’s shoulder. “You are not alone in this, my friend. We all stumble, we all make mistakes. But it is how we learn and grow from them that truly matters.”
Petir bowed his head, feeling the weight of Ramiel’s words sink in. “But what of him?” he whispered, his voice thick with remorse. “What of Rydel?”
Ramiel’s gaze softened. “He will find his own path, as we all must. And though it may be fraught with challenges, he carries within him the strength to overcome them. You have given him the gift of life, Petir, a greater purpose.”
Petir responded as he looked down at his hands “Yeah, just not one that is his own”. As the words left Petir’s mouth the stillness of the beach disappeared. The waves started crashing harder and the sound kept getting louder. Through the now thunderous sound he saw Ramiel speak but he barely heard the words. “You have done more than anyone should be able to ask of you”. And as the scenery started fading into a blinding light he heard clearly “Remember, you are never alone.”
There was a knock on the door. Petir opened his eyes and found himself in the tavern room he had rented after arriving in Heliosia. He barely remembered falling asleep, but exhaustion must have gotten to him as soon as he sat down in the chair.
Another knock echoed through the room. Petir got up, stars dancing in his vision, an aftermath of the bright light he had seen in his dream. Ramiel’s words were still echoing in his ears as he walked past Maeve laying on the bed. Her eyes were moving behind closed eyelids, and Petir saw a sheen of sweat on her forehead. She was shivering. His back hurt from the uncomfortable chair and he absentmindedly rubbed his metallic knuckles against his spine as he opened the door.
“The blankets you asked for.” The woman handing them over smiled when Petir nodded his thanks before she left again.
He returned to where Maeve was resting and put one of the soft blankets over her curled form. They were alone now. For the first time since he had parted ways with the others, it was just the two of them. A sigh left his lips and Petir ran a hand through his hair. Neither of them had said a word to each other while they were in the mansion with the Copper Phoenix. What lay between them felt just too heavy.
Petir kept watch. Falling asleep earlier was unintentional but unavoidable. The last fight in the Abyss had drained all of his energies, and his body was still aching from the strain of keeping the portal open. Vira’s sacrifice was tragic but he was grateful for it. If she wouldn’t have given her life, the chances of himself and Rydel getting out were slim, if not gone entirely. He would have died, scared and with more regrets than acceptable. Now Esta at least would be safe for a little bit longer.
“I’m sorry,” came a small whimper from where Maeve was sleeping. Petir looked up. Tears were running over her face and a shudder made her curl up further into the warm blanket, though her eyes remained closed. “I’m sorry,” she said again and Petir’s expression softened.
She had said the same thing on the airship after overexerting her magic. Darkvein was a horrible sickness, unpredictable in its nature and dangerous, not only for the infected but for everyone around her as well. It spreads lies and hisses whispers of hurtful memories into an already broken mind that can only take so much. He had seen Maeve break and was ready to do what was necessary to stop more harm from happening.
“I’m sorry,” Maeve uttered once again. Petir took a step closer, his hand reaching for her shoulder. A feeling that he wanted to comfort her slowly and reluctantly spread in his chest. “Please,” Maeve said with another sob. “Adren.”
Petir froze.
He had already known on the airship that it wasn’t them who Maeve was apologizing to. Something had happened between Adren and Maeve when her true allegiances were revealed, and he had seen the pain her absence had caused within the group. He never felt in a position to ask for further details though. Why should he, when it was them who had abandoned him first. The feeling in his chest turned dark and solid as a bitter taste appeared on his tongue. They had hurt so many. Ramiel’s face flashed before his eyes.
Petir’s hand turned into a fist. Maeve woke up, and for a moment they were just staring at each other with Petir’s fist between them and then Maeve moved.
She threw the blanket to the side, her hand outstretched with clawed fingers, reaching to scratch at his face. Petir stared as dark veins spread to her eyes again, before he enveloped her wrists in a tight squeeze. He pulled them up, away from his face and slammed her against the wall. Maeve hissed in pain.
“Stop,” said Petir. His hand squeezed tighter, hard enough to bruise as he felt her straining against his hold. Her eyes were darting around the room, unfocused. She was panicking. Her breathing became rapid and the dark spots in her eyes started spreading. “Stop it!” he said again, louder, slamming his other hand flat against the wall beside her shoulder.
Maeve looked at him. Her eyes were intense, burning through him like a caged animal waiting for something to happen, for something to hurt her. Petir just looked back.
“There is no danger here.” His voice became softer again, while the solid clump in his chest threatened to burst out of his throat. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
Slowly her breathing calmed, falling into a slower rhythm that mirrored his own. They took a few breaths together, their faces so close to each other that Petir could smell the flowers still braided into her hair.
When her eyes dropped to his lips, he let her go and stepped away. Petir listened as Maeve let herself slide to the ground, his back turned to her, and when she didn’t say anything he walked to the small round table standing by the opposite wall.
A water-filled carafe and a few glasses were placed on top and Petir filled one up. Silence spread in the room. The lump in his throat slowly loosened until it allowed him to swallow his anger.
“Sometimes I really wish it’s real.”
He barely heard her whisper. The glass was filled halfway and the water inside reflected his face back at him.
“So that I can go back,” Maeve said, her voice trembling, “make things right. Even if it’s just a shadow, just a dream.”
Petir turned back around. Maeve had dragged her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She looked so small sitting there, hiding her face in the crook of her elbows. The metal of Petir’s fingers clanked against the glass as he walked back to her side and Maeve looked surprised when he sat down and handed the glass over.
“You’re alive,” she said almost in wonder.
“You are too.”
Maeve shook her head. A tired smile spread over her lips and she rested her head back onto her arms. For a second she seemed at peace, then a sigh escaped her mouth and tears welled up in her eyes.
“The worst thing; you know your mind is broken. You understand, but then bits and pieces fall away and you don’t remember why your body is not responding to you.” Maeve spread her hand in front of her face like she was reaching for something and wiggled her fingers. “You lose control. You lose yourself.”
Petir remained silent.
“I can’t help anyone anymore.” Maeve breathed the last words as her eyes lost focus again and silence returned.
Petir leant his head against the wall behind him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt as helpless as his former companion sitting beside him. Through all the fights and the close calls in the past years, he’d always kept on pushing forward, striving to accomplish the greater purpose that he had picked up from his predecessors before him - being a guardian, a protector. This greater purpose of his had been the primary driving force for him traveling the world. He went where he thought he was needed, where he could save people. Like Ramiel did. Wherever he did go, however, the most difficult part to accept was that not everyone could be saved. As the last thought crossed his mind, brief flashes of Qahira appeared in his vision. Flashes of Adren.
“I met him,” Petir said eventually and he saw Maeve turning her face back to him out of the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, unsure if it was anger or compassion she would see on his face. Pressing the metal of his fingers into his palm, he grounded himself before continuing.
“Adren,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, monotone. “He is gone, and whatever you think he was to you or still is to you is gone too.”
Maeve sucked in her breath, but Petir could still not bring himself to look at her. They sat with the words heavy between them.
“We’re all lost, aren’t we?” Maeve muttered after a while. Her hands were clawing at her shoulders, tugging her coat closer around her body like she was trying to hold everything together. “Lost and alone.”
Petir bit his lower lip, the metal still cold in his palm. Jandar’s laughter from his dream echoed through his mind and a small ache in his chest flared up. He rubbed against it. It wouldn’t go away.
“Do you think we could have saved each other, if you’d have just found me earlier ?” Maeve whispered into the room, but it sounded far away to Petir.
Fire burned through his vision and through the memories of better times. Petir imagined Adren standing right in the middle of the room, his smile turning cold as he turned around to look at them. Although no words were spoken between them, he knew that Maeve was seeing him too.
Maeve closed her eyes to the vision as tears streamed down her face. Petir looked straight at him. His eyes filled with tears and he reminded himself once again; not everyone could be saved.