The Arcelus

Chapter 3: Visitors

Heat was the first she could feel.

The girl clung desperately on the coarse broad fingers of a man lying on charred dirt, his legs reduced to a streak of red. The girl had been tugging with every strength she could pull, unwilling to let go even as he urged her to flee, she tugged at his fingertips. Eventually, his hand let go, then it weighted more and she felt the cold envelop his touch. Her knees gave in to the weight and tears trickled on her father's hand.

She couldn't remember much after that, apart from hazy memories of being carried through the burning town, her home. She couldn't remember the name nor the face of her savior.

Opening her eyes, she sees the face of her rescuer, iluminated by the glow of dying embers she sees...

Her General? Why would he be...

Time catches up to Mayven, and then the pain came along with it, she winced. This is a different fire. It had been thirteen years. A tear slipped from her bloodshot eyes, mingling with the ash and grime that stained her cheeks.

Zavel, took notice, "You're awake," he said, a relieved smile crossing his lips.

"I'm glad, I thought I'd lost you." He says as he flies them closer to the ground. Like a feather falling.

Waketown, Mayven remembers, and now that is where the town resides. Burned to the ground it is nothing more than ash and embers.

Now away from the flames, Zavel held his hand over Mayven, and a soothing green aura enveloped her. It felt as though she had been submerged in frigid seawater, washing away the pain and wounds that marred her body. A moment pass and all the wounds left by her blood were healed.

Mayven recovered her strength, and with Zavel holding her hand she found the ground and stood. The earth beneath her still felt unsteady as though the world could snap in half at any moment and devour her. She couldn't help but wonder if such a fate would be a welcome relief.

As Mayven regained her senses, a flood of questions surged within her. "How... how am I still alive?" she asked, her voice trembling, " what did you do, Zavel?"

Zavel's expression softened, a weight dragging down his eyes. He took a breath, his voice thick, as though his words clogged in his mouth as he spoke. "Mayven, I... I had to make a choice," he began, his words faltering. "Your blood, it was... it was killing you. I had to... to save your life."

A single tear slipped down Zavel's cheek, betraying the depth of his anguish. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry."

Mayven's heart clenched at the sight of Zavel's tears, her own eyes stinging with unshed emotion. She reached out to him, her hand trembling as it touched his arm.

Tears welled in her eyes as she felt the weight of his sorrow, Mayven enveloped Zavel in a tight embrace. Zavel returned the embrace, his arms wrapping around Mayven with a fierce, protective strength.

"I'm sorry." The words echoed.

She sobbed, but she knew the end of the path she took, and this was for Mayven, forgiveness. Her unfulfilled consequences absolved by her General, and when her heart could finally carry the weight of her loss, she thanked him. First silently, until she found the strength to let it reach him through her trembling voice.

"Zavel," she said softly. "You did what you had to do. And for that, I am grateful. You saved my life, I thank you."

The hot air stung her nostrils and she took in the consequences of her actions and instead of consuming the fuel that burns in her heart, it fanned the sparks of hate within her. Now, at least, she had a face to attach to her anger, a captive whose fate lay in her hands, and another, still free, whose actions continued to elude her understanding. Questions wrought her mind, she could not even perceive a torrent of hot air and soot and ash.