Different thoughts went through his mind as he made his way up the tower steps, ignorant of the sisters carrying out their duties in silent sobs and the soldiers who seemed to take it upon themselves to console whoever they could. Half way to his destination he worried who he would find behind the door. Or if he would find anyone at all. He understood more than most the insanity grief could drive a person to as well as the decisions it could make a person take. Lenaria may have begrudged the Abbess because her care for her wasn’t the purest, but she still cared about the old woman… the dead woman.

Ezril found a handful of sisters at Lenaria’s door, knocking and offering empty condolences.

“Move!” he commanded, approaching them.

This was not his place to be, regardless of the situation, and it remained as wrong as the nights he spent with Lenaria. Still, he saw this as no time to consider consequences. He stopped before the sisters as they watched him, eyes wide in confusion, unmoving. It irked him, drove him to anger, incited rage within him. Had they lost their minds? Had grief left them not knowing when to feel fear? He would remind them if he must.

“MOVE!”

His voice shook the air. It came out as a roar; a reminder that there remain things worse than grief. In it came a relief and a pain, like scratching a thousand itches in a single moment. And it came from the scars that marred him left from the flames of shadows.

There was a brief pause. The sisters stood, terrified. Their legs seemed to tremble hidden beneath their habit. Then it calmed. Their trembling stopped. A moment later they scattered in a frenzy, making their way towards the stairs, like ants without a queen.

Certain he was alone, Ezril knocked against the door gently and waited, listening for a sound. Listening for anything. He knocked again, the panic rising within him.

She couldn’t have.

“Aria, open the door. It’s me,” he assured her. “No one else.”

A moment sooner than he expected, the door’s locks gave way on the other side, and it creaked open. Through the gap, Lenaria observed him. Reddened eyes settled on him, never moving.

After a while she opened the door wide enough to let him through. When he walked in, she closed the door, returning the lock to its place.

Ezril walked up to a crumpled piece of paper lying on the floor near the wall. Picking it up he straightened it, keeping Lenaria within his peripheral view. From where she stood, she watched him in silence. Waiting.

Certain she would not do anything uncalled for, Ezril turned his attention to the words on the paper. Rumpled as it was, the words were clear enough to be read. And so, he read.

Lenaria,

I hear you’ve grown quite attached to one of the priests in residence at the tower. I’d wager it’s the young Urden. I always knew there was a thing between the both of you. I’m fairly certain that’s what the Abbess shouldn’t say, and yet, she would wish to have you hear it. And so, as a sign of respect for her, you have heard it.

On another note, you have not been sent there to rekindle old friendships. You have been sent to fight a war; a war required to make you stronger.

Lyniah did her best and, in my opinion, it has made you soft. Remember what you have been taught and use those lessons to evolve into what you’ve been born to be.

The sisters have deemed it fit to report this issue to the seminary and, in just a matter of time, I believe the priest might be moved to a different location. Considered, I know the kind of child you are, and you would most likely do whatever you can to follow the young priest. I advise that you do no such thing. Nothing comes out of acts of stupidity.

You will follow the instructions of Sister Alanna and return to the battlefield under the command of the Lord Commander until further notice. It would do you well to remember that Lyniah has crossed the threshold and is no longer with you.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

I believe you are fully aware of what that means.

I will find you should the time come.

R.

“Rin,” Ezril whispered. It was not a question. Regardless, Lenaria nodded.

Ezril turned to regard her. Her eyes bore the signs of someone who had been in tears, however, he was fairly certain she was yet to shed any. “You cannot accept her, Aria,” he told her. “Nothing good will come of it.”

“She has the Abbess, Ezril.”

“And she will always have the Abbess, regardless of what you do,” he reminded her. “And in time, we all will cross the threshold. But you cannot subject yourself to a life as her vessel. You give yourself to her, and she wins. You cease to exist.”

“And what does that matter, Ezril?” she demanded. “What does it matter?”

“It matters because that’s not what the Abbess would want. That is not what Abbess Lyniah took you and cared for you for.” He squeezed the paper and tossed it aside. “It matters because I don’t want to lose you to her… I don’t want to lose you to anyone.” He fixed her with eyes imploring. “I just got you back, Aria. I can’t lose you again. Not now.”

Lenaria leaned her back against the wall and slid to the floor. She sat there looking ahead of her, eyes unfocused.

“Do you know the worst part of this?” she asked. “The sisters. They don’t talk to me. They don’t like me very much, and it’s not a new thing. But now they all have something to say. Consolations.” She looked at him. “One of them at the door was talking about how the Abbess was a loving woman, how she loved us all in her own way. Can you believe that? Sister Quintess barely knew her,” she spat in disgust. “She hadn’t even talked to her once. What did she know she was saying?”

Now she sobbed. “They just kept asking me to remember that things will get better, that things will work out for the best. ‘The morning light after the darkest nights,’” she spat the words, as if they were something vile. “They didn’t know her. None of them knew her. But now they talk like they did. None of them liked me or cared what happened to me. Most of them wished I never came back from my tests, and now they act like I’m the most important person there is. Like they’ve always cared…”

Ezril waited a while but she never continued. Crossing her arms above her drawn up knees, she rested her head upon them and let the silence console her.

Loss is not an easy thing, Ezril thought to himself. Especially when people who don’t understand seek to console you.

He walked over to her and sat beside her. In time she rose her head and Ezril saw the tears flow before she leaned against him, resting her head against his shoulder.

“There’re rarely ever any real consolations for such a loss,” he told her after a while. “But if you feel you can’t find the light, then I’ll sit with you in the dark.”

Lenaria gave a barely perceptible nod but said nothing. She seemed to take whatever solace his shoulder had to offer.

Ezril remained still, wondering what fate awaited the one girl he could say with certainty he cared about. He knew loss. He had experienced it. And it had led him to something stupid. He snuck a discreet look at Lenaria. The tears had ceased their descent and her eyes were closed. She was not asleep, however. But she was getting there. Don’t give her what she wants, he thought to himself. Words intended for Lenaria.

He found himself wondering just how strong she was. Would she succumb to it? Could she face the grief? Could she withstand it?

There is no other god but Truth, the seminary’s teachings dictated in his head, as if assuring him he had nothing to fear. That Lenaria’s fears were nothing but that. Fears.

Perhaps, a voice said in his head. But are you willing to risk her over such a belief?

Night fell and, as Lenaria rose to retire to her bed, Ezril rose to make his exit. He deemed it of import that there were certain things he would need to ascertain before the morning. First, he would need to find out from Darvi when they would be able to join Bilvion’s war. Second, he determined a conversation with Alanna imperative. However, he would have to make certain it was one where she wouldn’t know what he truly sought.

“Ezril.”

Lenaria’s voice interrupted his exit. Stopping, his hand on the door handle, he turned to her. “Yes, Aria.”

“Can we sleep in my room this time?”

He released the handle and made his way to her bed without objection. The rug that spanned the expanse of the floor made the need for a blanket nonexistent. He unclasped his cloak, then lowered himself to the ground.

“Ezril,” she interrupted his descent. “Can we share the bed? … please.”

Ezril paused, a moment of thought. A simple statement hadn't ever carried so much weight.

His moment exhausted, Ezril rose and made his way unto the bed, adjusting beside her. She snuggled against him, the sniffles from her earlier tears making their final presentation.

She placed her head on his chest and he wrapped a reassuring arm around her and closed his eyes, giving way to the slumber he felt they both needed.

Moments later she shifted in his grip, adjusting her position. Her breath was warm against his face as she moved. Then she kissed him, gentle and sweet. Her lips remained on his for a while, lingering, unsure. He savored it, knowing it was merely a moment of need, knowing it would not last.

But it did.

When she returned her head to his chest, she remained still. And only when her breathing rose and fell in a steady rhythm did Ezril allow slumber take him.. And as slumber took him, he promised himself he would never allow Rin have her.

Even if it’s Truth’s will… Even if there are other gods… I will not allow it, he thought.

Even if I must go against them all.