Raven was panicking. Loriathan’s health had deteriorated so quickly. She used all her might to bring the passed-out elf onto his bed, checking for bruising and applying balms where she could but she really didn’t know what to do.
He said he was feeling dizzy earlier, right? What could she do for that!? Mind racing, she slapped her face to calm herself. She wasn’t a healer, she was an alchemyst. So, she’ll do what an alchemyst does.
After ensuring that Loriathan was as comfortable as she could make him, she rushed to her alchemy supplies. Gathering quickly the previous basic healing potions they had created together in her arms she raced back into the room.
She haphazardly unscrewed the cork before she stopped. She didn’t know what had happened, and basic potions couldn’t do more than pain relief. Loriathan wouldn’t be able to drink it now as he lay unnervingly unconscious.
She would need stronger potions. Leaving Amaranth to look over Loriathan and trusting Amaranth would get her if his condition worsened.
Night had already set in, the moon glimmering mockingly at her over the window as she worked diligently. Preparing materials and creating high level healing potions one after the other. If she made enough of them, when he awoke, she could help. That was what alchemy was for in the end, wasn’t it?
And so, she worked. Tirelessly through the night. Occassionally taking breaks to check on Loriathan’s wellbeing. Yet by sunrise, he had still not awoken. Raven awoke dazedly as the sunlight trickled through the window, missing dearly the endearing greeting she had grown accustomed to each morning.
She continued her work. Making meals for the two of them, and fresh herbal teas each time just in case. More Potions after potions, until by the 14th hour of the third night Loriathan awoke. Raven had entered the room to lay a new set of high-level potions she had made on his bedside when she walked into the room and found herself staring right back into his eyes.
They were open. He had awoken! She nearly dropped the potions, rushing to his side and giggling in childish delight. “Loriathan, we... worried sick!...you hurt?...you need anything...something to eat?” Her voice trembled, heart bursting with relief as she spoke in frantic sobs.
Loriathan conceded, warmly reciprocating Raven’s embrace and soothing her back. He however, said nothing. Instead looking vacantly at the piles of potions he saw next to his bed. Wordlessly, his weathered hands reached out for a bottle snapping Raven out of her reverie.
"Please, let me get that for you.” she said earnestly, reaching out for one of the potions herself and offering it towards Loriathan’s mouth. He looks so frail.
After drinking the bottle, Loriathan after having not uttered a word drifted back into a deep sleep. After seeing Loriathan had properly awoken and had consumed a healing potion which should’ve cured him mostly of his ailments Raven felt as if she could finally breathe.
She thought relief would come once Loriathan woke, once he drank the potion meant to mend him. But it didn’t. Days turned into weeks, and his condition remained unchanged. He woke only for brief moments—just long enough to eat, murmur a few words, and retreat once more into a troubling, dreamless sleep.
Desperation began to gnaw at her. She brought in some of his most treasured books, hoping they might spark a flicker of his old self. A favourite tome, worn with use, one they’d spent hours poring over together. But Loriathan only stared at the pages listlessly before closing his eyes again, as if the weight of the world—or something more sinister—was pressing down on him.
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She had resorted to spending her time reading the tomes to him instead. Voice occasionally trembling once she included memories of their own banter while reading as well. Her soft pleas for recognition a constant in the dreary room.
After what felt like an eternity, Loriathan awoke with a sudden, surprising burst of energy. His movements were sharper, his voice stronger as he greeted Raven for the first time in weeks.
"Lady Raven, I am as always honoured by your presence this morning” For a fleeting moment, hope bloomed in her chest, her heart racing with excitement. She rushed to his bedside, clasping his hands in hers, her smile radiant.
“You’re better!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with relief. “Finally, Loriathan, I knew you’d pull through!”
He returned her smile softly, the corners of his lips tilting just so, but the look in his eyes gave her pause. His hand found hers, and the warmth of his palm was steady, almost heavy, as if grounding her excitement. “Raven,” he murmured, his voice calm but lined with something unspoken. “Come. Sit.”
She hesitated, the hopeful spark in her chest flickering uncertainly, but she obeyed, settling by his side. He stared ahead for a moment, as though searching for the right words, his expression distant yet thoughtful.
“I’m sorry for worrying you,” he began, his tone gentle. “These past weeks… they’ve been hard for both of us. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.” He turned his gaze to her, his eyes soft but weary, and gave her hand the smallest squeeze. “You’ve done so much, dear child. More than I could have asked for.”
She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him that he didn’t need to thank her, but something about his expression silenced her. There was a quiet finality there, a sense of understanding that he didn’t need to voice.
Loriathan let out a soft breath before continuing, “I would hypothesize that it is due to the goddess’ wish. A life spent in longevity is not what gives it meaning. In fact, it deprives it of such.” He took a sip of his tea, his hand trembling slightly. “Perhaps it is better to die a noble death with a body that is spry than to live achingly for centuries more.”
He paused again, looking thoughtful. ”I... used to adventure. I roamed through dungeons, collecting trinkets and books in every place I ventured. Yet my strength meant I was not felled, as one should be when living such a life.”
He looked out the window for a moment, a faraway expression in his eyes. “Humans look for long lives, yes?” he asked quietly. To which Raven replied with a confused nod. "That has grown more confounding to me as the centuries draw nearer. Listen, child the one thing no-one tells you about a longer life is you can feel yourself rotting all the time".
Raven felt chills draw up the back of her spine as Loriathan let out a cold chuckle. “Truthfully, it feels as if I have died long ago.” Raven allowed the silent tears to fall down her face, yet she kept her gaze strong. She would listen to everything he had to say.
“To outlive not just your comrades, but their children too—it’s... disheartening,” he continued, his voice thick with a sorrow that seemed as old as time itself. He paused once more, his throat dry.
"To be stuck in this body, for centuries. Slowly losing more and more functions is too cruel. Even for the goddess.”
“This burst of energy,” he continued, a faint chuckle escaping him, “it’s too much for me. Making me feel like my old self for a little while. But even now, I can feel the weight pressing in again.” He leaned back against the pillows, his movements slower than before, though his smile remained. “Still, I’ll take the gift for what it is. Time to be awake. Time to see you.”
The unspoken truth hung heavy in the room, but Loriathan didn’t seem burdened by it. Instead, his gaze softened further, gratitude evident in his every word and gesture. “Let’s not dwell on the things we can’t change,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “Stay with me tonight. Just sit and talk with me, like we always do.”
Raven blinked back tears, nodding as she forced a small smile. Loriathan didn’t say it outright, but she could feel the fragility of the moment, the weight of everything left unsaid. She leaned closer, holding onto his hand as if her touch could anchor him here just a little longer.
That night, they stayed like that, the silence between them filled with unspoken understanding. The next morning, as the first light of dawn filtered into the room, Raven awoke to find Loriathan’s hand still in hers, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest fallen still.