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THEY SET UP ANOTHER CAMP.
They did not talk about it, did not acknowledge it amongst the glowing crystals, but they all knew that they were waiting for something.
As Sattvas lay gazing at the impossibly starry skies above him, he felt a kind of frustration at the fact that this endeavor could not be hurried. As one of the vultures, he did not need sleep, so he spent his nights thinking instead, as a pretense for dreaming.
He thought about their strange party, strings tied together, held by a blood-black knot in the middle. He thought about their destination... but once his mind wandered in that direction everything became hazy, blurred.
He heard a low shuffle of feet and glanced up.
He watched Rynaezel, dazed, as if still in a dream, wander onto a small clearing amidst the glowing chunks of crystal. He traced the line of her glittering eyes as they climbed to the ripe moon. She stood, an obelisc bathed in moonlight, and there was something so beautiful about it, that Sattvas felt a tinge of tragedy on his tongue.
"The door, the door, the doorthedoorthedoor..." he heard her whisper, hectic, rhythmic.
His senses jolted at the sound of her words, and when she took her first step away from their camp, he was already up, swift as fury. His fist curled like lightning, sending a sign into the night. He felt the returning pulse when he was already curling past the death-reeking crystals, feet hurrying after Rynaezel.
Be ready, brother, the men with knives you so feared will be there, he felt Tamas's whisper coil around him, followed by his brother's feline chuckle. Sattvas brushed it off, bristling.
Come yourself, brother, see how harmless they are, he bit back.
Wouldn't miss it.
He saw Rynaezel's figure flicker past a curve in the mountains, diving into a pool of deep shadows. His feet cut the ground as he hurled himself after her.
Of course, you wouldn't, not if that mortal boy is there. It was Sattvas's time to chuckle.
They emerged through a small tunnel onto a flat, high peak. Something sprang in his chest as Sattvas watched Rynaezel approach the knife-like edge.
"Rynaezel," he warned, knowing she couldn't hear him, but he could not stop the words in his mouth. His feet did not abide gravity as he lurched into motion.
"Rynaezel!"
Her silken skirts brushed against the edge, mesmerized by the beckoning void below. He watched, as space blurred around the edges of his vision, as she stopped, just a breath away from the merciless precipice.
His eyes widened as he watched her turn towards him, those features, devoid of sunlight, but so beautiful as they thrived on the night, came to face him. Time fractured, tickling down to fractions beyond the moment.
