One war. Two Sisters. One end.
There is no running from it. Fate shall have its way as both daughters of Stormband take to the field of battle. Each with one goal - vengeance.
Approximately 130k words.
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And the Child of Prophecy must be sacrificed to save the foundation of the future.
Journal of Reane Matir
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Like a bolt of lightning struck her, Reane surged upright in her bed and out of the slumber that finally consumed her late into the evening. Between the heavy breaths in and their accompanying brisk exhales, she tried to coral the enduring parts of the visions at the source of her angst. Covers cast half-aside, the meager glow of embers remaining in the fireplace did little to warm, or even light, the second story room given to her for the duration of her stay in Telga.
Bolstered by the visions haunting her dreams each night over the past five days, the puffy, dark bags under her eyes had only expanded in size to the point where they actually hurt. After several unsuccessful attempts, the seer combed the sweat-soaked hair from her face. Skin clammy, throat dry and raw from screaming in her sleep, Reane took the seconds that followed her awakening to acclimate herself back into reality.
Gripped by the undeniable sensation that she was literally falling apart, her mental checks and balances verified she was no longer consumed by her vision. Satisfied that it was over, she focused her thoughts on the oil lamp resting by her bedside. Without even so much as the slightest physical touch from Reane, a moment later it burst to life and brought enough light to see by into the room.
The remaining covers discarded, Reane threw her legs over the edge and placed her feet, still in their boots, onto the wooden floor with its annoying creek. Slinging a heavy fur hanging at her bedside over her shoulders, she advanced upon the only window draped in heavy winter curtains. Throwing them back, she took advantage of the missing panes of glass to cast open the louvered shutters.
The night rushed across her face, making Reane's blood run even colder as she stood there and stared towards the heavens lit by what remained of Earoni's Eye above the southern horizon.
Below her, on what passed for a street here in Telga, a guard walked by. The lone soul about in the evening stopped his nightly circuit as he recognized the delicate light cascading out of her window. With a glance up, their eyes met in what was now a recurring routine exhibiting a dwarven-like precision. After only a slight hesitation, the patrolman moved off to resume his rounds.
Reane withdrew back inside, closing herself off from the world and resuming her isolation once more while the light from the lamp flickered slightly as her actions stirred up a breeze. Her destination was the rustic desk upon which rested a small and worn leather-bound book. Sitting down, the seer flipped past many pages already packed with writing, stopping at the first blank one she came to; one of only about five or so remaining.
As much as she would have desired to purge the visions from her mind, she knew that she could not. For each was a piece of a puzzle that were too precious to not record and hopefully decipher. Leaning back, her thoughts wrapped around a quill nestled in its well of ink and proceeded to guide it in a dance across the page as Reane dictated.
"Thirty-first of Rumatan," the words wrote themselves in flawless script. "The dream continues, each night more powerful and much more clearly than the last. I fear that seeing this vision is beginning to cloud my judgement and hinder my effectiveness as councilor and friend to The Child of the Storm. Our paths are diverging, with her success portending and end for myself that I still struggle to accept. I know that she needs and values my advice, even if she does not approve of my methods, but at this point I'm just not certain how to proceed."
Reane sighed, allowing the pen to dip itself in fresh ink.
"If anyone needs to maintain clear thinking during this time, it's me. But the forcefulness of these images have caused me to retreat, seeking to protect myself from the unpleasant sights and outcomes. In the coming days and months it will be my judgement that ultimately either causes success or failure, and I must not have tainted thoughts."
Once more, the quill paused, longer this time before refreshing itself and continuing with her next words.
"The lone grave upon the mountain plateau now contains a name; mine. And the entire vision of who must perish is coming into sharp focus with this cleric, Daphney, at Anthony's side in the end of it all. Both were in sorrow, but also happy to be together. If I save her, I will lose him, and myself. It is hard to maintain strength through this ordeal knowing the outcome to befall me if I do what I must do to save the Rebellion and allow us a chance to recover the Tear."
Releasing her control over the implement with a fit of frustration, but also finished penning her missive, the feather flopped to the table and laid there dripping ink. Reane followed its fall with her head into her own hands. Where once these visions were unclear, the mental pictures began to sharpen and draw into focus. Combined with the sight of Anthony and Daphney standing over the grave and the cleric soothing the man Reane loved, the experience kept forcing her to consider one particular and selfish option that remained.
Just walk away, she told herself. Yet, no matter how much she tried to coax herself to that decision, Reane couldn't overcome her own objections to it, each born from a knowledge of what such an action would cause. The feeling she had come too far down a dead-end path flooded through her like a plague through a village, and it compounded upon the realization that her own personal happiness and the fate of the world were at direct odds with one another.
Walking away was always a choice she clung too, but it would set into motion a cascade of events beginning with the downfall of the Rebellion and culminating with the world careening into chaos. Lord Hedric would recover the Tear of Earoni for himself. After that, Lady Noranda would unleash her Dark Lord and master from his prison within The Dark. Reane and Anthony would be together, but the world would collapse while evil and darkness consumed it.
Still, it would be so easy, and they'd at least have more time with one another before everything ended in fire and brimstone. All she'd have to do is not even try to revive the woman who would vie with her for Anthony's affections.
