[THE DAY MY DREAM DIED]

18 - Unravel

— 18 —

Unravel

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    With heavy feet Lise steps up to Elineal who kneels on what could be mistaken for a gently rippling pond. She towers over the woman's already-small frame, hand hovering above her head. Answers at her fingertips, she wonders what answer she seeks. Many; but not all itches are within scratching distance. Her hand touches down and subtly sinks into Elineal's skull.

—7 Cycles Ago—

    Elineal weeps, "I'm sorry! Good Harmony I wish it could be easy!" She feels fit to burst, fat on torment. How much she endured. "I'm so sorry... sorry... sorry... Pelezel."

    He writhes, mouth open to scream. Only the rasp of his crackling breath, his broken voice. But he is not done. Still he tries to wriggle from under her palm. If he would just fall in line, to become harmonious once more. "Please, Zel. Just accept it! The pain will end... we can be one once more..." She begs him to stop, just to allow her in a moment. How evil had taken him so firmly in its grasp. If she can just pry these false beliefs from his heart, she can save him.

    Looking into his eyes, she can still see a flicker of goodness under the pain and hatred. He is there somewhere, if only she can kill the evil suppressing him. But it seems the more evilness she wrests away, the greater the pain in his eyes. When she finally collapses from exhaustion, she still has yet to pull him free. More remains in him, holding him back from the truth, the good.

    It is so deep in him. How she had been so inattentive to allow such thorough corruption—she couldn't understand it. I'm a failure. My own partner so corrupted, all happening while I dismissed his objections for prattle. Uprooting a weed so entangled, it seems she will end up tearing out his roots as well. So ingrained as to be indistinguishable; sometimes she thinks they are one and the same. But she couldn't have misjudged him so... He is good, somewhere. Some of these roots must be free of rot.

    Elineal weeps for the pain she inflicts on Pelezel. I can't... I can't give up. I must press on, for his sake. The pain she causes here will be worth it in the end, if she can just save him. How long has it been? Three cycles... four? How much longer must I go?

    She had observed the villagers—how quick they came to bite one another. The simplest of issues grow into full-on brawls in mere moments. Those strange swarming fiends must be the source of it, there is no other explanation, but she doesn't understand. They never seem to touch her, even when she wanders the undermind unguarded. She'd thought it miraculous, that she could quarantine the children without issue; they were usually the fiends first filling.

    They feed on the adults, sustaining their number on nibbles, so Elineal must take advantage of the time she has. Though she knows it can't last—as long as they aren't dying, she can afford to focus on the person who needs her most. She dives back into her task with feverish urgency, feeling failure on her heel.

    "Master Elineal!" A young man rushes into the altar room. "Master Elineal! There's been a murder!"

    Elineal turns from Pelezel's prostrate form, leaning heavily on the altar. "What? A murder?" Even she can hear the exhaustion in her voice now. For so dire a circumstance, her empathy has run dry.

    But with sleep she is rejuvenated. At last, she is nearly done. Another cycle, and she thinks Pelezel will be rid of the evil influence. Before that, though, she thinks it necessary to clear away some of the fiends. Though they are yet to kill anyone directly, they are causing enough turmoil that the people will end up a murderous mob without her interference.