Spirits of the Earth

(Continued from this thread: Stardust (http://www.spiritsoftheearth.net/smf/index.php?topic=23653.0))

@visualspice

---

Lily was alone in her room.

This was not an uncommon occurrence, of course. Her mother's insistent worrying after her health meant that she spent quite a bit of time alone in her room, overall.

It was, however, the first time she'd been locked in.

"Jorris, please!" She pressed both palms flat to the door, pleading desperately. She didn't even know if her brother was still on the other side, but she hadn't heard him walk away after turning the key. "Please, listen to me, I'm not a mage. I promise, I'm not, please, just--please."

"I--"

Her brother's voice choked off. She heard a soft thump, and then his voice was closer, as though he was pressing his brow to the door. "I'm sorry, Lily," he murmured. "I know--I know it's not your fault. But you're dangerous. We--we need to get you help."

"No!" She reeled back, tears gathering as she began to pant, looking around wildly. As if there would be some sort of new escape presented to her. "No no no no no, you're wrong, I'm not a mage, I don't have magic, I don't have magic!"

With a scream, what had previously been a slightly overcast but ultimately pleasant enough day abruptly changed to a raging storm. All the partially-open windows of the Hartnets' townhouse were blown inward in the sudden gale, rain and wind ripping into the house as Lily wailed. Servants cried out, running for cover, Jorris and Lily's younger siblings shrieked and ran for the interior library, and Lady Hartnet--who had not moved from her bed since Jorris had sent for the authorities that morning--began to sob.

Lord Hartnet had been moving to answer their front door, expression grave and shoulders bent, when the sudden storm blew the door open and nearly knocked him ass over teakettle. He just barely managed to catch the edge of it, squinting out into the abruptly driving rain to see who had been sent to deal with their unknown, unregistered daughter.

It hadn't even been a week since the inauguration ball. He has assumed the church would take the time to make a new assignment plan for the templars, so Kentamin Dhelsbar was shocked when he was pulled aside and informed he'd be staying within the city to aid in a private matter at one of the homes of a well to do, noble home.

He was told he had to work with the utmost discretion and was to perform the lesser known but very potent power of Divine Retribution. Apparently a child of the family was a mage, and the family feared for her safety as well as others. The mordecai, it was said, was not a sustainable solution, and while most of the templars were still in the city, options were fortunately opened for the family and Kentamin was selected to perform the ritual.

Ritual.. if one could call it that. Trust, indeed, as even this lightly seasoned war veteran was still becoming comfortable with this skill. He had performed it few times before, and was the only one available to aid this unfortunate family. Unfortunate,  indeed.

Kentamin swallowed the lump in his throat, recalling the first time he performed this blessing and he felt his hands clenched and sweat.

The one he 'cured' hadn't made it. And thr scars of the mangled death he inflicted had haunted him ever since.  Sure, there had been successes after.. but very little and it was still a scaring treatment all the same- for both the templar and mage alike.

His heart was racing, he needed to calm down. So he drew in a long, deep breath and slowly exhaled before stepping out from his carriage and into the rain.

Lord Hartnet was waiting for him in the open door--not a position the portly gentleman was used to occupying, as it was typically a steward's job to welcome and escort guests. But seeing as there were extenuating circumstances...

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Ser," he called, raising his voice to be heard over the wind--wind that sounded eerily like a woman wailing. "We--we don't know what to do. She's been a sickly thing ever since she was a girl, but this...we just had no idea. Can you help her?"

It was clear that the man was genuinely worried for his daughter, or at least believed he was--though the way he kept glancing at Kentamin's carriage and back and forth down the street may lead one to think he was more than a little concerned for the family's reputation as well. Shaking himself abruptly, he ushered the younger man inside and added, "Forgive me, my manners are lax, it--it's been a trying day. A proper introduction: I am Carlton Hartnet. I'm afraid Lydia, my wife, is...indisposed. Please, come in, come in."

Kentamin frowned as the lord of the house immediately was upon him. He nearly regretted coming here, but held his tongue and nodded as the man guided them both into the house and from the rain.

He was thankful to bed out of the rain, the brief time the pair were standing in it, he was certain his boots were soaked and anything else of poor make. He should have taken the time to have them fixed. But duty called.

The pair arood near a fire,  which Kentamin was grateful, and as he stood there a moment gathering himself, he peered around the house to see. It was well cared for,  not the richest noble he's seen, but they knew their worth. He had to wonder.. how old was this poor child he had to 'cleanse'?

"Would you—might I offer you refreshment of any kind?" Lord Hartnet offered awkwardly, as though there wasn't an untrained, unmarked mage crying out from her locked room at the top of the stairs, her magic intent to bring the whole manor down around their heads.

Jorris appeared in the doorway to the hall, looking haggard. He blinked when he saw Kentamin, as though not quite able to process what was in front of him.

"Ah, my eldest," Lord Hartnet said quickly, beckoning his son over. "He was just—just checking on his—on our..."

As he trailed off, Jorris seemed to snap back to himself. He crossed quickly to Kentamin and made a move as though to grab his arm, then seemed to think better of it and let his hand drop to his side.

"Can you help her?"

Upon hearing the commotion upstairs, Kentamin turned, brows furrowed as he was reminded of the urgency of hid request. He regarded the young man but nodded stiffly at his question before bowing.

"I am here to do our God's work. It is with his blessing that I can heal your loved one. But it seems time is of the essence. Please, what is the status here and may I see her?"

"Yes. Yes, of course, please, ser, this way--"

"I can show him," Jorris cut across his father. "Her room is on the second floor. This way."

He turned and strode from the receiving room, leading Kentamin up the main flight of stairs and down a hall to the locked door. His steps faltered at the last, bringing him up just short of Lily's room.

His sister had gone quiet, only muffled sobbing occasionally audible over the rain driving against the windows. At least the thunder and ripping winds seemed to have died down.

Jorris hesitated a moment longer, then turned and thrust a hand out toward Kentamin. "Here," he said, not meeting his eyes. "The key. She--I can't--" He swallowed thickly. "Just...help her. Please." He all but shoved the key into the other man's hand before turning to put his back to the door, shoulders hunched and head bowed.

How long ago had it been that he was the child receiving support? Many years now yet still it felt at times he were still the child. Maybe he'd become more humble due to the war, but it still felt strange at times that he was the adult. He was the one you ran to for help, to pray to when no one else could help.

Kentamin placed a hand on the young man's shoulder.
"Your sister is in Ansgar's hands now. Trust him through me. I will help her get through this."

Jorris tensed under the touch, then let out a long, low breath and nodded. "I have faith," he murmured to the ground. "Just... Please. Help her. I can't—"

His voice broke and he cleared his throat quickly, looking away. "I cannot see her like this."

---

Huddled in the corner of her room, knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped tight around them, Lily couldn't even hear the muffled conversation happening just outside her door. She felt...lost.

This couldn't be true. It couldn't be real. She was sickly, she had a weak constitution, she wasn't...she didn't...

But she could feel it in her. The power. A song that no one else could hear, echoing out into the storm and reverberating back to the center of her chest. The truth of it was undeniable, like something she had always known but never acknowledged.

"I'm not a mage," she whispered into her skirts, tasting the lie like ash on her tongue. "I'm not a mage, I'm not a mage, I'm not a mage..."

Was what befell this man's sister so terrible? What has awakened from the new mage that had this young man so distraught.  Or was it that he knew the fate that befell most Mages, be they noble or other wise?

Kentamin's expression was grim as he watched the young man turn away, before he turned with key in hand and approached the locked door.

He inserted it into the lock, but hesitated, recalling it was still a woman's room, so he knocked gently and asked through the door, "I am a servant of the church, knight Templar and warrior to our God. Do I have your permission to enter, my lady?"

In her current state, Lily could barely hear the words, much less process them. It took longer than it should have for her to understand what was happening.

A...servant of the church? Who...?

And...was that voice...familiar?

"I—yes," she managed to croak out, barely audible over the wind and rain. "You...have my permission..."

It took some time but when she finally replied his heart went out to the poor girl. But he wasn't helping anyone as he lingered,  so he slipped the key inside, and went in, closing the door behind him.

The rains made the outside dim, the inside- even darker, but the real grimness emanated off of the poor woman, who Kentamin was giving proper spacing.  He bowed his head, blond, wet locks dipping over his eyes.

"Forgive me my lady, but I am here to help. There is no need for alarm," he spoke softly, voice carrying just over the rains.

Lily lifted her head slowly, blearily. For just a moment, the storm outside began to die down as her attention was suddenly focused on the young man before her.

Her eyes widened. She likely would have been more surprised, if there was room in her heart for any greater emotion than the grief and betrayal that had set her magic loose and resulted in their current torrential downpour.

"I...I know you..."

The lighting was dim,but the white of his attire appeared to glow. He was not quite as focused as he'd have so her statement just took him mildly off guard.

But he also couldn't see her. He was too busy preparing himself to dissociate from the woman that he immediately had a dismissal,  "I must have one of those faces," and he turned to look nearer towards her fireplace, which the fire kindled low. He grabbed a poker and began to poke it to life.

Lily flinched back from the firelight, but there was really nowhere for her to go. As the glow spread, it lit on the edges of her skirts—a simple if well-made walking dress, not u common attire for a woman of her station to wear about the home, though the fabric had been torn at the hem and the caps of the sleeves from the wind that occasionally gusted through the small space with no discernible source.

She looked away from him, biting her lip, not wanting to see. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe...

"...What are you going to do with me?"

Kentamin cast a smile in her direction, but he didn't allow his eyes to focus on her form.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you. My mission statement is simple."

He moved and began to rummage through his bags.

"Are you a believer, my lady?" He asked as he slipped a leather carved book from a worn, black velvet sack. He moved to turn towards her, holy book in hand.
"I feel reading from the book-"

But as he approached, words caught in his throat. He didn't know why or how or even when he allowed enough of himself to finally see the girl, but all words and thoughts stopped as he found himself sputtering,  "Lily?"

Ah.

She did know him.

If she'd had the presence of mind to be so, she thought she might have been embarrassed--here she was, curled on the floor, dress tattered at the edges and obvious tear tracks down her face, with a storm that she had somehow conjured and had no idea how to dismiss roiling just outside the window.

"...Hello," she offered quietly, with the barest attempt at a small, wan smile. "I--I must admit, I had hoped to see you again, Ser. Just...perhaps not in these circumstances."

She blinked, a few more tears winding their way down her cheeks, and dropped her eyes. She couldn't bare to meet his gaze, the shame of her now thoroughly undeniable magic and fear of what came next freezing her heart in her chest. "I...I will also admit, I am...finding it difficult to be a believer, just now."

Ansgar was supposed to protect his people, wasn't he? But she had had these "fits" since she was a girl, as long as she could remember--what could she possibly have done to anger God--any god--so much? She'd been eight, or younger, when the first "fainting spell" happened!

She hid her face in her skirts, a new wave of sobs wracking her shoulders. "I didn't know," she moaned quietly. "I didn't know, I don't--I don't understand what I've done, why I'm...why I'm..."

A mage.

A cold, icy chill filled his belly. The reality unfolding before them wasn't a kind one, and her truth only helped make reality feel more barbed. He had been ignoring a lot walking in here, keeping a flat mask, a professional facade but....


He knew her. Perhaps not well, like kin, but he honestly could say he enjoyed this young woman's company.  And now....

"Life isn't always about fairness,  I'm afraid."

He felt awful the moment the words left his lips.  Who was he to talk? He wielded the judgment, the key... and poor Lily would be struck by it.

Finally he noted the way she was dressed and moved to grab a nearby blanket, opening it out in offering to her.

A broken, shaky laugh bubbles up from her throat. "No. I suppose it isn't."

She stared at the blanket he was holding out to her for a long moment before she seemed to realize what he was offering.

"...Thank you." She held it tight around her shoulders, but it occurred to her in a vague, distant way that she didn't actually feel very cold. She honestly couldn't tell if that was some aspect of her magic, or just shock.

"How—" Her voice croaked and she cleared her throat. "How does this...work?"

Kentamin helped secure the blanket around her and simply replied,  voice as soothing as he could, "Shhh, let's just get you comfortable. I'll go feed the fire,  okay?"

Lily could only nod, mute. What was she supposed to say? No, actually, she'd prefer if he just left her to suffer in the cold?

"I'm...sorry," she whispered, still unable to meet his eyes. "I don't—I can't—I never knew what it was, but now I—I can feel the storm. Here." She pressed a hand to the center of her chest. "But I...I don't know how to stop it..."

Emotion clogged her throat and she looked away. "I don't know ho to make this stop..."

She sniffed, struggling to hold back another burst of sobs.

As Kentamin tended to the fire,  he thought back to the star ball.  It had been a beautiful evening,  one he found himself actually feeling normal when attending.  As if the heavy burdens of the war were put aside.  As if things were back to the way they ought to be.

Yet here he was...
Wasn't even a week later,  he was in the room of the girl he shared a dance with, a lovely evening with, one he actually liked and he had to perform a cruel ceremony upon.

He cringed. He wished his powers on no one, and he wished this condemnation on anyone but that sweet girl from the ball...

But here they were...
Life wouldn't let them forget who they were. The war was still fresh...

And the woman's plight, real.

Swallowing,  he finally turned from the fire and gave the young woman a small, Pained smile.

"The rains.. are they yours?" He asked quietly.

Lily bit her lip harder, took a deep breath through her nose, and nodded.

"I...think so," she whispered, huddling a little deeper into the blanket despite the renewed heat from the fire. "But I don't—I've never been awake before."

She hesitated, then explained softly, "What—what I told you, at the ball. About my fainting spells. That was true, I've had them as long as I can remember. But my...my brother...Jorris..."

More tears. She tried to breathe through them, eyes fixed in her knees. "He noticed that...things would happen. Strange winds. Freak rainstorms. Whenever I would have...one of my fits. I didn't believe—I still don't understand how—"

She squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled carefully. "I can feel it, but I don't...it's distant. It's like...like something inside me is awake, when it used to slumber, but it doesn't know how to be awake when I am, too."

Kentamin's eyes grew distant as she explained.
"Not all born with magic can explain the magic. You are not alone," he told her softly. 

Frowning,  he observed her, then very slowly, the room around them.

"Does this.. magic.. is there connections to anything you can think of? Emotions perhaps? Memories.. no-" he shook his head. 'Forgive me, you just mentioned you're not normally awake. "

He paused to consider.

"What.. changed... has.. anything been different recently in your life? Like... your age.. if I might inquire, how old are you, Lily?"

"I—" She blinked, a little taken aback by the question, though she wasn't entirely sure why. Perhaps because it seemed so...normal.

"I'm twenty," she replied quietly. "And I think..."

No. No, she couldn't say that. The idea was absurd—that her magic may be trying to protect her? When having magic itself was the biggest danger she would ever face in her life?

No. The idea was foolish.

Twenty...

They were nearly the same age. There was a frown in his smile.
To think.. neither would live a normal life...

He noted her cut off her thought and studied her.

"Hrm? Was there something more you wanted to say?" He asked gently.
"It's okay to speak freely, as a member if the church.. and.." His smile was more genuine, if even sadder, " as a friend,  you can trust me. Let me know what's on your mind. Remember,  I'm here to help."

Lily stared at him for a moment. Then she repeated cautiously, "A...friend?"

Was that right? Was that what they were? God, this was all just...so much more complicated than it should have been. Just a week ago, she'd been thrilled simply to spend an evening with someone who didn't treat her like glass, who spoke to her as though what she said was actually of interest, who made her smile. She didn't have many friends, but at the ball, she would have been more than happy to call her time with Kentamin the beginnings of a friendship.

Now... Now, he was here on the orders of the church. To help her. To quell this magic.

At the thought, that something beneath her breastbone suddenly reared up, and her blood went cold. The storm outside--which had been gradually dying down as they spoke, as she slowly wrangled her emotions under control--flared up fierce as ever. Her window burst open with a CRASH, making her cry out and fling herself to the side as rain and wind whipped at her hair and clothes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't--I didn't mean to!" she wailed, covering her head with her arms protectively against the driving rain that seemed to be trying to push Kentamin back from her. As though the magic in her sensed a threat to itself.

He was surprised by the sudden surge, the swell of wind gusts and rain, and soon found himself pushed by a force away from her side. It happened so startlingly fast that he was knocked to his knees before his breath returned to him.

The rain was unusually cold and sobering, but more importantly,  strange how it roared in fron the windows and around the young woman's form to pelt at him.

He made haste for the windows, struggling to close them but determined all the same,  only returning to her side once they were secure. 

Waters dripped off his form, puddling around his boots as he stood there, catching his breath and studying her. Yet he was, at the moment, without words.

With the windows closed, the rain was blocked, but wind still swirled around her, tugging at her hair, her clothes, the blanket she still clutched around her shoulders. It began to die down as she forced herself to breathe, to draw in the warmth of the fire and exhale the ice in her blood.

"...I'm sorry," she whispered again when she felt Kentamin kneel beside her. Her heart was gradually slowing, the swirling tempest in her chest abating as her breathing grew calmer. "I didn't...mean to..."

A sudden wave of exhaustion swamped her; though her magic seemed mostly to be defending itself almost autonomously, it was still her magic. The power drew on her own strength to sustain itself, and now that strength was almost drained.

Her lashes fluttered and she swayed in place. Then, with a soft breath, she collapsed to her side, barely conscious. The storm died in a instant.

Internally,  he trembled. Externally,  he needed to weather this storm. But as words evaded him, he began to see the woman faint away and acted.

He caught her, taking almost both of them to the floor with him as he did, where he spent a moment just supporting her,  mind racing as he took it all in.

But then he closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath.  And he reminded himself why he was here.

After a moment, he scooped her limp form into his arms and made his way towards her bed, where he laid her down gently; the storm nothing but fading rain outside closed windows.


He knew, deep within, it did not matter who was in the bed....
He needed to perform his job either way, and he needed to make peace,  fast, with those risks.

"Mmm..."

Lily stirred faintly in his arms as he moved her to the bed, eyes fluttering weakly. She was still conscious, but just barely.

"I... Kentamin?"

Hand trembling, she reached out to him, or at least the fuzzy outline of him that she could still make out through her fog.

Kentamin tensed at her words, daring nothing, not even a breath. His grounded fear of magics still ebbed, and he kept distance.

"I'm still here, " he told her, voice low as he studied her, frowning. "How do you feel?"

"I feel..." She frowned, trying to focus, to figure out how best to answer that question. "I feel...tired. Thin. Hollow."

Her magic was a weak flicker in the center of her chest—still there, but an ember where once it had been a raging blaze. She turned her face into her pillow, a few stray tears dripping onto the fabric.

"I didn't mean to," she whispered once more. "I swear, I didn't mean to..."

Kentamin grimaced and watched her in silence. Then he spoke gently,  "Shh, it's alright. You're safe. It's me, remember? You and I enjoyed one another's company at the Ball the other night."

He tried to smile, but it was forced. The poor girl... she had no idea what was to come.

"I remember..."

She blinked blearily at him. Then she smiled, just a little.

"You know...I really did hope I'd see you again. I just...wish circumstances had been different."

Her voice was weak, but her breathing had evened out. Though clearly exhausted, her magic seemed to have once more returned to its dormant state.

A gnawing, well of guilt knotted inside his belly.  Thinking back to the other night,  although a comfort to her,  tore at his insides. But this wasn't about him,  it was about healing her. He needed to swallow down this guilt, this uncertainty  , and focus on his duty.

But he couldn't deny the real fear of the unknown,  of the consequences of what he was about to do. There were many risks involved,  including Lily could lose her life.

He swallowed the knot in his throat,  his smile a sad one.

"Me too "

He hoped his voice didn't sound as croaky as it felt.

"You were a pretty good dancer."

Lily's smile softened. She could hear the trepidation in his voice--though she didn't know specifically what he was meant to do to help her, she knew enough about the church's methods to know there must be some kind of risk.

"Thanks," she offered quietly. "You were too..."

She was quiet for a moment longer. Then she murmured, "It's okay, you know. Whatever happens. I know...I know you just want to help."

The guilt helped pierce his bleeding heart,  that wretched knife of 'righteousness' , stabbing so deep he might never get it out. 

His smile was sad and lamed,  but he moved closer to her as he gestured beside her and asked,  "Might I have a seat with you?"

She actually laughed. It was a weak, fractured, weary sound, but it was a laugh.

"Hardy proper," she murmured. "But I suppose nothing about this is."

Weakly, she patted the thick blanket beside her. In her exhaustion, whatever was left of her magic had once more faded back into that quiet, cool place in the center of her chest, so still she hardly noticed it was there at all. The way it had survived so long.

"Sit," she invited quietly.

Again, he found his face straining under more forced smiles. She had no idea the gravity of the situation, or perhaps they both really hadn't. 

"Nothing improper, I assure you. While I am a man, and a gentleman, noble of birth, I am a man of God." He gestured towards his priestly attire, for this sort of event did not warrant the heavy armor of a Templar.

No, this battle would be spiritual.

"I come with the full intentions and authority of the church," he reminded, gently.

He inclined his head at her offer.

"Thank you." And he moved to take a seat beside her on the bed, an intimate gesture, but with purpose.

"I am here at the will of God. Ansgar guides me and has blessed me with.. unique tools to help," he began, sorting g through his words. 

"Shall I start us off with a prayer? Sometimes, when I am nervous or overwhelmed, it helps to soothe me when I begin with prayer."

Almost unconsciously, Lily curled slightly onto her side, toward him--and instinctive move of a body craving the warmth of another. It was a subtle motion, but just enough that it drew another tired sigh from her lips.

"A prayer?"

It struck her, suddenly, that he may be offering more for himself than for her. And while she was certainly struggling with any sort of gratitude toward their God at the moment, she could not make herself begrudge him for it.

So she said quietly, "If you like, serrah..." Her eyes slid closed, and it was so difficult for her to open them again, they were so heavy...

What faint power she had left flickered warily, but it could do little more then lift a few strands of hair around her face int he barest breath of wind.

Kentamin nodded. 
"I hope the words bring comfort to you," he murmured,  in earnest. Truthfully, as he prayed,  it was in partial part to him dragging his feet. The ritual he had to perform took a lot of focus; strength of will and mind. At present, he was still very much distracted by who he needed to 'save'. But as he finished his prayer he grew quiet,  simply studying her curled form.

Lily allowed her eyes to slide closed as he spoke, listening more to the cadence of his voice than to the words themselves.

She wasn't asleep, but she was still clearly exhausted, simply lying there with her eyes closed as she curled just a bit more in on herself. In fact, the only thing that betrayed she was still conscious was the rhythm of her breath--just a bit too fast to be truly restful.

He couldn't help but smile at her form below him.
"How do you feel?" He asked softly,  then added, in hopes to lighten the mood. "Or has my words of prayer put you to sleep?"

Her lips twitched fractionally at the side in the beginnings of a smile.

"Not quite," she replied in little more than a whisper. "I'm just...tired. It—it feels like after a fit. When I would faint. But I was awake the whole time..."

Kentamin frowned.

"And you've always suffered with these,  or rather- for some time now." He lowered his head in thought.

"How.. would you describe it? Your magics. If you can describe them to me, it will help me during my ritual  "

Sure he could see them. But what was it like to her?

"It's..."

She frowned, eyes still closed. "Before...I didn't know. I would have these...well, I thought they were dreams, sometimes, but..."

She exhaled slowly, trying to figure out how to explain something that was still so new to her. "It's like...it's part of me, but it isn't. And—" Ashe but her lip, then whispered, "And it's afraid. It feels like...a wild horse. Lashing out, afraid, angry..."

Frowning at her description,  he asked,  "Does it feel.. connected to you? Or.. like parasitic? I'm sorry for asking such intimate questions, but they will help with the procedure. Telling me all that you know can only better prepare us both."

She grimaced a bit and turned slowly onto her other side. She was restless, but so weary that she couldn't even toss and turn properly.

"It's...part of me," she murmured eventually. "I don't know how I know...I didn't even know it was there...but it's connected."

He frowned.  It was as he feared. These were always the most difficult powers to handle and he paused to consider the fact she might be incorrect. But he doubted it muchly. 

"Your magics.. can you describe them to me? To the best you can. I know it can be difficult. "

She shook her head, pressing her face into the pillow.

"I don't know," she whispered wretchedly. "The storm, before...I th-think that was me. And Jorris..." Tears welled up in her voice, but she choked out, "My brother said—he started to notice things. Inexplicable winds or rains. They happened when—when I would have one of those fits..."

Kentamin chewed over the small bits of information he was afforded. 

"So you feel there's a connection? To things like wind and rain.. even the storms?"

He recalled their fresh incident, but he wanted to let her explain. 

She nodded.

"Yes."

She'd always loved storms. Loved sitting in the window of her bedroom, or tucked away in the library of their country estate, listening to rain against the rooftops. When she was younger, before her "fits" had become so frequent as to keep her mother's watchful eye ever on her, she used to sneak out into the rain and just...be. Let the wind whip her skirts and hair, soaked the chilled droplets into her skin.

Now...she wondered what that meant. Was it because of her magic? Or did her magic take its form because she loved storms?

"They're...sort of beautiful, aren't they?" she murmured, back to Kentamin. She couldn't bear to look at him as she said it, though there was a desperate longing in her voice that she couldn't hide. Longing for someone, anyone, to understand.

Kentamin frowned at this explanation. Had she this affliction when she was so young? And now, as she matured, a lady of the purest, had it manifest then as she come to age? It wasn't unlikely, and in fact, practical;- many cases were like this, especially among the gentile. But it didn't necessarily make this any easier.

At her comment, he peered towards the window where the weather was now tame.
He thought to the raw power of a summer storm, and how mighty the lightning flashes were, how strong the earth rumbling thunder was. He gave a small smile, though it was empty.

How terrifying for such a woman, or any, to own it. 

He needed to do this. For her sake...
and for his.

He swallowed the knot in his throat and returned his gaze to Lily.

"They are."

He took her hand gently and lifted it to his lips and kissed it softly.

"But I am here to help you let go. Lily... These.. storms, your connection, your... ability, it's a plague. You understand this, do you not?"

For the briefest moment, something that wasn't magic--something purely emotional--swelled in her chest.

Just for a moment.

A plague. Of course. Of course, it was. That was why he was here--why her family had sent for him. She was dangerous.

"I...know," she whispered, and even though she really, truly thought she believed it, the words still tasted like a lie. She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes again. "I know..."

Kentamin allowed her a moment to herself. It felt like the right thing to do. From his brief experience with mages (or at least the mages he had began to actually 'feel' for more like humans than just another enemy...),he harvested similar sympathies.

She was born this way, not cursed. It wasn't her choice. It was a power beyond her control.

And Ansgar sent him to rectify that.

He reached out and took her hand, sensing her tension and knowing she would need the comfort.

"I am truly sorry you have to go through any of this. It never seems fair when innocent souls like yourself must be tortured so. We can only thank Ansgar for the miracles that can be worked to help yield a cure."

"Of course." She couldn't open her eyes, couldn't make herself look at him. "Lucky. I'm lucky..."

Kentamin's smile was small and sympathetic. 

"You are, " he Whispered,  squeezing her hand comfortingly.
"Not everyone who goes through this has a friend in their side "

She gave his hand a soft squeeze in returned, but she was just too damn tired, too overwhelmed, to smile back.

"Thank you," she murmured with another soft sigh. "I...well. I suppose...we'd best get on with it?" She managed to open her eyes long enough to find his, silver dulled to a flat gray. "Before something else happens..."

Get on with it...
Kentamin licked his lips. He hated to admit it but he was dragging his feet.  He wanted to continue to ignore the pressure of his task,  the very real fear of it, but how much longer could he delay?

"Yes, I bet you're anxious to be freed."

He felt his throat thicken at the very word. It somehow sounded wrong. 

"...Yes."

Freed.

Of course. That was what she wanted. To be free. Free of this magic.

...Right?

She lay there, unsure what else—if anything—she could do.

Kentamin watched her and it pained him.

"Are you nervous?" He asked softly. "Don't be. I'll be here with you, every step of the way. "

She nodded. "I know. I'm sorry, I'm just..."

She turned her face away from him, clenching her eyes shut. "Please just—do it. I can't—this waiting is torture..."

The guilt that riddled him was near insurmountable. He almost lost his nerve. 

But he did something else that was far more strange, more alien to him when he suddenly embraced her, pulling her in close and secure for a comfort, an embrace- and just held her, knowing both he and she might need it, as he rest his chin upon her shoulder and whispered.

"This endeavor was, by no means, meant to torture you, my lady, but it is not a task that will be quick, nor easy..."

"Oh--!"

Lily's eyes suddenly snapped open as she found him pulling her into an embrace. A small voice in the back of her mind began screeching about propriety--and she ignored it.

Since her brother had revealed his suspicions to their family, no one had dared get near enough to touch her, let alone hold her.

She screwed her eyes shut and leaned into the hug, pressing her face into his shoulder. "I know," she whispered, voice thick. "I know you--you just want to help me. Thank you, Kentamin..."

Kentamin released a long breath as he held her, the embrace so tight- as if he may never let her go.

"This... what I'm about to do.. it'll hurt. Tear at you..." he began, words getting caught thickly as he tried to clear it away.

"I don't want to lie to you. But there's no other way that is known to cure this.."

Why did it have to be her?

Lily shivered, and clung to him a little tighter. God, she just needed the comfort. "I'm scared," she whispered into his shoulder. "I'm so scared..."

She swallowed, took a breath, then forced herself to pull away. She tried to smile at him, though the expression was tremulous and watery. "But I—I know you want to help. Even if it hurts...I know you're just trying to help me..."

Kentamin frowned. He.. she... there was so much more at risk than just pain....

And he didn't want to lie to her. Not when....

"There's... more risk than just pain," he began, studying her. 

Lily stared at him with those big silver eyes. She knew what he was saying, somehow, but still...she had to ask.

"What do you mean?"

Kentamin frowned, then pressed his lips into a line. 
"This.. procedure can sometimes kill," he professed, words barely above a whisper- eyes never leaving hers. 

Her heart sank. Yes, that had been exactly what she was afraid he was going to say.

Eyes downcast, she stared at her hands in her lap and whispered, "My--my family would have known that. When they sent for you." She took a breath and lifted her chin, though her bottom lip wobbled treacherously. "If...if this is what they decided is best for me, then I'll do it."

She could do this. She could face this. She could be brave. Even if the knowledge that her family had judged the risks and found her death a more preferable outcome than living with the shame of magic broke her heart.

At her resignation, Kentamin felt something inside him break.

It wasn't fair.  She shouldn't have to suffer so...


And yet...

Since when had he become a mage sympathizer?

He felt even guiltier for thinking that. The solid lump that formed wouldn't go away, and he found himself withdrawing back to his internal prayers from his youth....

"Very well.." his voice croaked as he with drew himself from her side. "I won't make you wait any longer."

Before the man lost his nerve, he returned to his pack .. both to finish preparing but also to keep his eyes away from her.

"...Thank you." With his back to her, she could wipe at her eyes without fear of being observed--a silly instinct, perhaps, but she wanted to appear brave. Despite the fact that he had clearly already seen the worst of her emotional break.

"Is--" Her throat closed up and she had to swallow twice before she could continue. "What do I need to do? Is there...anything you need from me, for this to work?"

Kentamin stared into his bad of things, the iron cuffs within reminding him of scarred screams of rhe past. They were used for.. the unruly of patients. He bowed his head, praying silently he wouldn't need them.

At her words he tensed. 

Need...?


"Just pray," he told her softly before rising again. 

Lily sniffed, sniffing and wiping her eyes again, but she kept her expression as calm and neutral as she could when he turned back to her. Hands clasped in her lap, she bowed her head slightly and waited for him to begin.

Most of the preparation was mental. If a confessor was not in the right state of mind, he could risk harming not only himself, but the intended. Death... was by far the worst result, and so far he had only seen it happen on the opposing party, not himself- but even he knew of the consequences. After all... his duty was to absorb her magics away, draw them out of her and allow his own powers to suffocate them into holy oblivion.

And although he was feeling more confident in this ability than he had before- he never fully felt confident enough.  His training was a trial by fire at best, and with the war...
Most of his training was this way. The church had little time to waste, especially when the war was so heated those many years ago...

Kentamin suddenly felt older than he was, and...
Tired.

But.. he had a job to do. He had to cure Lily. It was the only way to secure her soul with Asngar. The only way to make true peace. And with that resolve, he drew in a breath and approached.


She was so pale looking, so small as she sat, kneeling in prayer. A jab of guilt hit him and he hesitated, though briefly before he moved over towards her side. He bowed his own head, resting am open hand upon the top of her head.

"Continue to pray," he told her softly, before drawing in another breath- and beginning a prayer of his own.

Pray.

What was she supposed to pray for? Her life? Her salvation?

Could she have both?

...Did she want both?

No. No, she needed this gone, she needed Kentamin to heal her. She nodded silently, just a slightly movement of her hand under his head. She was tense, trembling; she had no idea what was about to happen, what she was meant to feel, and she was sick with nerves.

It was hard to ignore the feelings towards the girl, but he forced them down with ferocity, reminding himself why he was here and why he chose this path.. this creation to salvation. 

Words poured from his lips, ones he practiced so many times when learning how to quell the magics. He needed to focus, the words more a beacon than a spell, and he thought to the words, over the words, as he prayed and prayed until he felt his mind finally slacken and the sudden trickling thrill of an internal vacuum awoke- and soon he felt his own energies opening up...

Abd began to creep and tear into the young woman beneath his trance.

At first she didn't feel much of anything. Just the nervous trembling of her own body.

Then the chill started—first in the tips of her fingers, a subtle, biting tingle, as though she had stayed out too long ungloved in winter weather. Then it started to spread, and it grew from a chill to a freezing, gnawing cold that was so intense it burned as it traveled through her body.

Lily's breath started to grow reached, a tiny whimper of pain caught in her throat as she flinched slightly under Kentamin's hand on her brow. But she forced herself to remain as still as she could, teeth clenched as her body began to shake in earnest.

Kentamin's brow began to sweat, hand clammy on her forehead. But he pressed onward, feeling that sensation, that pull from her body and he continued, keeping that pathway open as her magics continued to siphon away. 

As it were, he felt his own body tingling, his mind feeling detached and numbed of this world. He could see well of it to know what he was doing and what was happening but he was falling into a spell from the chant that he almost wondered if any of this were real...
If he was truly subjecting Lily to this torture.

But then he felt his focus slip and stumbled over his words, the internal pathway cutting away from her pool of magics and he felt it.. going off the pathway...

And cutting into her very force of life. 

Something was wrong. That wild, raging part of her reared its head, trying to push back, to fight, to save itself--save her--from the leeching, terrible cold.

But it couldn't. She was too weak. Her breath grew even shallower, the temperature of his skin dropping to something icy.

Internally, Kentamin gasped. This pull on her life force was inescapable, the pathways between powers so jolting yet he couldn't stop. 

No. No. No!

It was like that time before, where he couldn't focus.. where he pulled the wrong threads and..

NO! He had to find his way back, had to leech onto the offending powers before..


He sensed it.. what he was hunting for and frantically rushed his anchor after it, the leech from her life force tearing away like hot wax from skin. But he was more focused now, determined, and reached out and latched into the source again. He swore he felt it writhing.. almost crying as he latched on again-

None the wiser how the drain at her life energies may be affecting Lily as Kentamin continued to pull.

Stop.

She was too weak to speak, almost too weak to breathe—but what was left of her power reached out to the nearest life it could, bringing her desperate thoughts with it.

Make it...stop... Killing...me...please... They were as much emotion as words, desperation and fear and a soul-deep grief all rolled into one.

The sudden grief- he desperation hit him like a cold blast of water. He grimaced, keeping his grip but not slacking on his pull. No.. no no no. He couldn't stop. He had to...

But then he felt her... the connection.. the rawness..
The wrongness. And he realized he held onto something else-

and he began to feel the thrum.. the thump thump thumping life force of her being and...

it startled him to realize what he was doing that the tether suddenly snapped and inside their own minds- something seemed to just scream as a rush of agonizing chaos surged and Kentamin felt himself suffocate, drown- fall away and scramble to reach out- to grab onto something anything before he'd simply fade away...

The scream that tore from Lily's throat wasn't entirely her own--it was as though her magic itself made the sound, a last desperate burst to save itself as the connection between her and Kentamin seemed to implode.

And it was that magic moving on instinct that brushed against Kentamin's own consciousness and wrapped around it as both he and Lily began to sink into cool darkness, drawing them together with the faintest whisper of rain-tinged wind.

The entire house hold was in alarm- and they moved.. fast. A messenger was sent back in a rush to the church, and the cold body of the unconscious templar was taken swiftly to a nearby room, where he could be tended upon by house staff and healers alike.

It seemed the church healers were in a bit of a tizzy, not certain they could comfort the family that 'everything will be alright'. They weren't even sure the pair would survive the night.

"This is why magics are very dangerous.. and this art... to remove it.. is equally dangerous. Your daughters body would have fought against it- for in a sense, the templar was trying to remove a piece of her. Your daughter.. must be strong, to have resisted so. We.. do apologize that there is not much we can do now except feed them with healing potions and.. simply wait as we pray to Ansgar's name."

Lily was floating in cold darkness. There was nothing--no light, no noise, no air, and yet somehow she wasn't dying.

I'm dreaming, she realized vaguely.

Her newfound core of power flickered weakly in the center of her chest. She winced, pressing a hand over the spot as though she might be able to physically push the magic back.

It flickered again, and suddenly in the nothingness there was a faint breeze, carrying with it the scent of spring rain. Lily drew in a shaky breath, turning her head to follow it.

Was...was that...was someone else there?

And whatever it was, shrunk away. It seemed alone.. and frightened. But was it even a.. thing? For in appearance there was nothing. But it's presence was simply felt. And it was shivering and shying away from whatever form of consciousness approached it.

"...Hello?"

Her voice simultaneously seemed to echo, and to fade immediately into nothingness. She winced, then shook her head and tried again as she took a step forward into the dark, following the scent of rain.

"Is...is anyone there?"

Was that.. that a voice? It seemed familiar and he rose to listen to it, becoming less afraid of the strange unknown and more curious of the voice.. the sound...

So he too, called back, "Hello? Yes.. someone's here. ..hello?"

Was that...?

"Kentamin?" Lily called, first cautiously, and then again, louder, "Kentamin? Is that--are you here?"

Everything seemed.. felt surreal..distorted. He felt neither close nor far away, his eyes faired the same. He also felt heavy and light- warm and cool...

He couldn't focus nor make sense. Was he floating? Was he walking?

He heard something just then..

A voice..

A name..



It was familiar..


His name. But not just that...

The voice....


A shred of memory lingered abd he clung to it, trying desperately to comprehend  ...
A name..her name..

She...



Then it clicked. 

"Lily?!"

He called out into the void, his voice echoing but also growing louder and softer as he looked around.

It was him!

"Kentamin!" Lily started moving hurriedly toward the sound--not quite running, not yet, but only because this all felt so dream-like that she was worried if she tried to run she would only find herself moving in place.

"Here!" she called, looking around frantically. "I--I'm here..."

He could hear her voice. It was her. Yet...
Still.. he could see nothing through a wade of shadows. 

"Are you okay?" He called out, not even sure which direction to call to her. It seemed every direction was the same.

"I..."

She looked around. She could hear him, but she couldn't actually figure out where his voice was coming from.  "I...think so," she murmured at length. "I'm--I'm not entirely sure, to be honest with you."

She bit her lip. "Can you--can you find me?"

The whole place was so strange- as if floating in a pool without water. It also felt like he was falling but also simply being carried. Weightless yet weighted.

"I can't see!" He called out to her voice.

"Where.. where are we? What is this place? Why is it so dark?"

His voiced echoed but it was hard to tell if it carried.

"I--I don't know..."

His voice...she'd thought she was following his voice, but as she took another step she realized she was following a scent: fresh rain and cold air thick with ozone. The scent just before a storm.

Carefully, one step at a time, she reached out blindly into the darkness in front of her. "This isn't--this isn't part of the ritual, is it?" she asked, a little desperately.

Everything suddenly felt as though it sank like ice into his toes.

The ritual...

Could it be? Was this what the priest's feared? He shivered at the idea. And also felt the weight of guilt about it....

He has been distracted... worried about her...

And his soul flared out to protect her.



So.. was this... inside their souls? Had the paired died? Was this the afterlife?

He shivered, not quite sure what to say or what this all meant.

"I.. I think it is apart of the ritual...." he confessed; each word feeling like lead on its confession.

She did not like the way he said that. Like he was...scared.

"But--" She swallowed, putting together the pieces of what he hadn't said. "But you didn't...do this on purpose, did you? This wasn't meant to happen..."

she took another step into the darkness, and suddenly her outstretched hand bumped against something. Something warm and solid. She gasped, started to pull her hand back, then suddenly grabbed for that something, desperately needing the anchor.

"Kentamin?"

Strangely, her connection peeled the unknown from the shadows- and the Templar was indeed what she had reached for as he spun to face her in shock.

"Lily?!" His form flickered like a candle as he studied her, blurting out the words. "Are you okay?" A hand reached out to hold her arm- she felt solid enough. So was this... not a dream? Dred pooled as ice in his belly at the very idea- for it only leant towards the very real conclusion that he was absolutely and utterly lost at this.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

"Oh, thank God." She grabbed his arm tighter for a moment, starting to be able to make out his shape in the nothingness around them. His own hand on her arm was a steadying contact, and she nearly wept with the relief of solidity.

"I--I'm alright," she stammered out, thinking that she was probably lying but not sure what she could say. No, she wasn't okay, she was terrified? That seemed obvious. "I don't--I don't remember...what happened?"

His mind tried to go back to the ritual but everything was muddled- even his body it seemed. He almost felt fake..

But was this even real?

"I'm trying to remember.  I.. I do know we had begun the ceremony.. and it.." his voice hitched as he recollected something. 

"Something must have happened..this.. i.. we might both be inside your head.. or consciousness...."

He was recalling back to just how the magics worked... digging in and ripping through the seams inside a person- looking for those strange hints of magic. 

"Inside my consciousness?" Lily repeated, incredulous. "That—how is that possible?"

She looked around frantically...and without quite realizing what she was doing, her hand drifted down from lightly gripping Kentamin's arm to wrapping her fingers around his and holding tight, trying to anchor herself.

She'd be able to see- and feel his frown. 

"I.. it's within the magics.. part of the risks..."

How could he explain?

"Magics can be tied to many sources. Some rooted more deeply and complex than others. Some it's woven throughout their entire being.. or mind..."

He shook his head.

"But this.. this has never happened before.. something must have happened..."

And was that.. did he just hear..

Thunder?

"...Mine felt like that, I think," Lily whispered. "Felt...woven in. Like a part of me."

She started a bit at the rumbling sound that echoed suddenly around them. She whipped around, searching though she knew all she would find was that dark nothingness.

"What was that?"

She didn't seem to notice the faint halo of pale silvery gray light that had started to form around her—like the sun shining through storm clouds.

If he could pale, he would. But as it were.. he wasn't completely sure he was real. Or any of this...

"Maybe it's all..a dream?"

But it seemed too.. cements, to weighted for that. Then he gasped and pointed at her.

"You're glowing..."

"What?"

Lily looked down at herself, and realized he was right. She sucked in a sharp breath, brushing frantically at herself as though that might make it go away.

It didn't seem to have any effect. If anything, the glow grew a little brighter, in time with another distant rumble of thunder.

she looked up at him, eyes wide and lost. "What's happening?"

Kentamin frowned. 
"I.. I don't know."
He listened to the rumble of thunder again, her body glowing brighter.

"The storm..." he took her hands suddenly. "Tell me... what all can your magics do?"

"I-I don't know," she stammered, still staring down at the faint glow that wreathed her hands--her whole body, really, but for some reason she just found herself staring at her hands.

"It was...I mean, the storm, when you first arrived, that was...the magic," she whispered. "But I've never--I've never used it, not on purpose. I don't know what it can do..."

He furrowed his brow and considered what she said.

"Are you sure you've no control of it? No emotions that may trigger it? Or thoughts?"

"I don't know," Lily exclaimed, both fear and frustration clear in her voice. "I always thought--I thought they were fainting spells! That I would get overexcited or--or something, and it would just..."

She scrubbed the heels of her palms into her eyes. "I don't know," she repeated in a hopeless whisper.

Things began to click into place.  And the more he thought on it  - it made sense. She had no idea her own emotions may be linked to these powers. How could she know? If she always passed out....

"We need to consider that this power is more intimately connected to you.  Your fainting spells likely were when you were at your peak, or the powers had become too much."

He frowned at that.. realizing..

Did he actually care how this affected her? When he had begun this journey as a Templar, he was boiling with his desire to put mages into their right place. How could they have allowed themselves to become so corrupt by these flukes of nature? 

But the more he lived....
The more he experienced he began to realize how grey the world was.

"If this is linked to you in that way.. you must stay focused and with me. We've got to figure this out or..."

Or what? Would they get stuck like this? What were the consequences to their current situation? 

He thought back to his training and.. well..

This is the part where, if he were to find himself so deeply connected within the mage that...

He would have to really fight to bring either of them back from this realm of their subconscious. 

"Tell me.. from the beginning. How did this all start? And what would cause you to go into your fainting spells?"

There were only so many time she could say "I don't know". Lily looked at him desperately, clearly wanting an answer as much as he did.

"I...I think I was five," she whispered, "when I had the first fainting spell. My brother--" Her throat tightened. Her brother. The same brother who had called for the church.

She swallowed. "My brother said I was climbing a tree, and I fainted. I don't...really remember that. I mean, I remember climbing, but then it all went black and...when I woke up, I was on the ground."

She frowned. "I...didn't get hurt, though. There was this--this storm rolling in, and the wind picked up...Jorris said I probably would have broken my arm, but the wind caught my skirts and sort of...I don't really know, it somehow let me fall softer? I hit a few branches on the way down, rather than just falling straight to the ground."