Alanis thought letting go of her first love would be the most painful thing she would ever endure, but little did she know, the path the light goddess set before her, would be paved in heartaches beyond compare.
With her past and Berthold behind h...
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Ati Tundra White Plains Mid-Morning
They reached the White Plains three days later. As promised, a covered wagon attended by Faris and one of Ati's high clerics waited for them at the cusp of the Stone Forest. There wasn't much they could do, other than undress the wounds that covered Alanis' body to prepare her body for the medicine bath she would later have.
After the bath, Alanis slept for a day. It was hard-going, but she managed to wake when Faris came to check on her.
The days following were spent sleeping or in rest. The clerics checking up on her would promise recovery, but warned it would be long and painful since she likely suffer nerve damage in her hands. And there was also some talk that the infection in her shoulder could possibly cost her the use of her arm.
Thankfully, for the time being, the medications and herbal baths had helped with most of her physical pain. Faris helped ease her worries, for the most part, when he sat with her in the evenings. The topic was always the same, always positive conversations about the progress she was making, and not much else. When he wasn't speaking his eyes would wander to the tall windows in her room. It was clear his mind was elsewhere, on something else, something beyond the White Plain was calling him. He was preparing for something.
Not being able to talk well, she wasn't up to questioning him. Plus she was too damned exhausted to summon a potential argument she didn't have the strength for. And she figured, if he hadn't told her himself, he wasn't going to with her request anyway.
On the fifth day, Faris came in, dressed in his kingdom's armor. A cloak of black draped over his shoulder. It was an ominous sign, but Alanis had little time to ponder it's meaning as the king followed through her bedchamber doors.
He looks unwell—
Like her, Stronghold looked worse for wear. Though he was a big guy he had thinned. His skin was ashen, dry, and waxy. And his eyes were sunken, she noticed the bags beneath them carried blue and purple spider-veins that trailed into his jowls.
He stepped ahead of Faris and blinked slowly. His hand lifted to pull his cloak from his arm as he bowed his head.
"My son, you speak the truth. I'm so sorry," Stronghold said, his eyes roamed the ugly purple scars that dressed her skin. Within his gaze, there was a sort of pity for her that she could read. It was the only thing she could go by. Her powers had not yet returned.
"It must be too painful to bear, to be burned this way, by your gift."
Alanis mustered the strength to sit up. She shied her eyes from his stare. His apology hurt worse than her actual pain. It wouldn't have mattered if she didn't find any truth in it.
"Excuse me, your grace." One of the castle clerics came in holding a tray with a herbal drink. She bowed her head and greeted the king before setting the medicine on the nightstand.
