Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

//Bringing back an old favorite... my favorite, because I know so many of you didn't know what to think of her //

Picture if you will, this image:

There sits, at a table, what appears to be two twins. One calm and observant, eyes shining with intelligence and wisdom of nearly three centuries. The other, of this identical pair, sits unfocused, her face a constant shift of varying emotions as they surface. The pair both have dark hair, black with a glimmer of blue in the sunlight, though one is neat, the other is loose and free flowing. The bun in stark, commanding contrast to the gentle waves of the other. Blue eyes on each, so pale they seem to shimmer silver at times. The pair boasts a fair, unblemished complexion, carrying the beauty of an Elf much younger, for aging has been kind to them over the centuries. Each in form seeming incomplete without the other… and still not quite whole, vaguely translucent.

Between them sits a cat. She appears watchful, and almost protective of the pair. She sits on the table and quietly regards the figure across the table with distrust. Her short, sleek, blue-gray coat kept clean and uniform. Her blue eyes shimmer with an unnatural sort of wisdom, gained from living far longer than most felines would dare to dream of. Occasionally she moves in such a way, as the others watch, seeming to ‘listen’ to what her body language conveys to the three of them.

Across from this odd trio, sits an Elven woman, her deeply tanned, olive skin bears no blemish save for a burn that covers the left side of her neck and face. Her left eye unseeing and glossed with milky white. Her right eye, a deep and lovely emerald green, burns with fury and hatred. Her entire posture is hostile. There are moments when it seems she would as soon scale the table and murder the identical pair that regard her from the other side of the table. Yet she sits, still and quiet, though never fully silent. Interjecting and interrupting as she sees fit, while the trio across from her seems to try to largely ignore her presence altogether.

By comparison of stature the fury is far taller, far more lithe and graceful, perhaps even more intelligent if the measure of cold calculation there is read at all. At one time she might have been beautiful before she became a scarred visage of malice. The tiny pair, possessing little grace or agility, does seem to possess an uncommon beauty, though not strictly in the physical sense… Something… in each of the two calls eyes to them, not the lovely face alone, but something more. A commanding presence, the impression that something wonderful once was… and may be again… The impression that there is far more to each than meets the eye.

This eclectic quartet talk among themselves, sometimes in Elven, sometimes in common. Sometimes they are silent as they watch the cat. Sometimes the twins expressions mirror one another briefly as the Wood Elf across from them spews venom. They all seem entirely unaware of the bleak, snowy landscape they are sitting in. The whole place suspended in some gray twilight, perhaps morning, perhaps evening... it is impossible to say for certain. The ornately carved table and chairs seem out of place in the hilly landscape. The surroundings are strangely silent. Nothing stirs, not breeze nor animal as the snow falls quietly. The fury of the falling snow, much like a blizzard, another seeming oddity in this landscape… At times it falls so heavily the scene is nearly impossible to see. Other times it merely misconstrues the perceptions. If it is cold, it is not in the sense of temperature, but in imposing indifference to the ones who sit and speak.

If one is still and cautious, the scene is undisturbed… If one listens closely, the muffled words can almost be made out from where you sit and watch. Even sound is strange in this place, occasionally clear, but it dances oddly and reverberates off the surrounding hills. Truly on the outside looking in… You cannot always hear what is being said, though no noise muffles the words, no barrier seems to separate you from the others, and yet… it is difficult to move closer. Seeming to taunt as the edges of rainbows… just beyond grasp, just beyond clear hearing. You are touched by the vague thought that you -could- get closer… if you could only find the way. For now, You must simply be content to listen. To piece together the bits that reach your ears. To watch, and learn to understand the speakers… who at times seem impossible to separate, for the voices they speak with are so similar… it is as though they speak with the same voice.

Do you question your reason for being here? Perhaps you think you can help in some way, though you have only begun to glimpse the trouble, and cannot even -identify- what lurks beyond sight. You only sense something… Another of many vague perceptions, just beyond your peripheral view of sight or thought. Do you fear it madness? -Is- it fear that dances up your spine… fear that you too may fall to madness and get lost in the snow? Is your curiosity strong enough to keep you still? Or will you fall to it? After all… Curiosity kills the cat, and already there is one who seems to be long-lived enough for dozens of cats… You are struck by a sense of risk, yes? And still you remain… is it foolish? Perhaps so, but you do wonder, don’t you? Regardless of why you are here, be it curiosity, the want to help, the want to harm… You are here. An observer who passed by, still unable to change the scene that has drawn your attention, but regardless of that, you stay…
~~

“Velindur will be pleased. We have found one who wishes to teach us.”

The first speaks, her voice a level, almost monotone.

“Velindur is dead.”

The scarred elf sneers at the tiny pair, the malice unmistakable in her voice.

“Because you killed him!”

The other screams. She grips the table tightly and looks near tears. The Elf clad in browns and greens with traces of gold merely sneers cruelly at her, intent on bringing her to tears.

“I did not touch him. I poisoned his drink. Not my fault he was too stupid and trusting.”

The sneer turns decidedly more cold, her voice laced with hate, and her tone is never more than barely audible.

“At least you got to say good bye to this one… unlike the others.”

The emotional one stands, still clinging to the table. Her hair falling in thick waves around her face, shielding the sting of tears in her eyes from view nearly, but not quite. The woman regards the pair, smug and content. The cat stands and moves in front of her… in silent comfort places a paw on one small, slender hand.

“Eli is right. We do not think you should let her goad you. We think it unwise.”

The first, still and mostly silent, speaks again… She regards her twin almost dispassionately, and the gray cat moves back to the center point between the two twins… almost glaring at the one across from them as her tail and ears twitch in irritation.

“We think you should ignore her. We have found a teacher. We have been offered a home. We will seek silence. We will have solitude. For now we must focus on our tasks. We have much to learn.”

Just before the snow begins to fall at a blinding pace, obscuring view… the emotional one sits, nodding to her counterpart and furiously wiping tears from her cheeks… Though you see the tall Elf laugh, you hear no sound. It seems the conversation continues, but it is difficult to tell. The calm and placid Elf seems to focus on the laughing countenance in front of her for a moment… and then appears to look your way as the whole scene is lost in a blur of white.
~~

The blinding white slowly lifts again. Strangely enough, they are not all seated now. Do you find it strange that they leave no tracks as they move about. The snow never settles on the table… and no matter how they walk… the sign of their presence is absent. Breath does not frost as they speak, they do not shiver with obvious cold. Some moments you may wish to look away from this odd quartet in an even more strange prison, but your curiosity ever compels you to watch. Transfixed on these figures that seem so out of place here.

The composed figure stands in rigid composure, a few paces from the table. She seems to stare off into the expanse of gray sky… and at times, when she focuses… Straight at you. It is unsettling to meet her gaze, as though something more lurks beyond what you perceive, something hidden and barely contained. She seems almost heartless, without care or sympathy to her nearly identical counterpart. She paces slowly as the other two continue the ceaseless battle… Occasionally she pauses, regards them silently and shakes her head. Centuries they had argued. How long would they still battle in this place?

“Why, Vanna? Why do you hate me so much?! What happened to the sister I so loved?”

“You always were a hopelessly romantic fool, Eliania. We were young and foolish. ‘Love’ was an easy lie to believe.”

“Was it truly a lie? When did power become such a monster between us? Imposing and unmoving, cold and unfeeling?”

Her fist slammed on the table before her. The olive-skinned wizardess regarded the woman before her, only a moment before sneering at the ornate table.

“It was always there, you twit! You were too busy being Velindur’s little pet. So perfect, your blood magic. Beautiful little Elli! Had the world at her feet and didn’t even see it!”

She spits across the table, and the other recoils as though slapped.

“More jealousy? Vanna… You could have had so much. Instead you turned on us, all of us. You could have studied and become a great magus. Nimthanon loved you--”

“Nimthanon settled for me! He wanted you! They all wanted pretty little Elli!”

“That is your anger speaking, Vanna. Nimthanon loved you… perhaps more than Urúvan did me.”

“And yet both died with my dagger in their backs and -your- name on their lips!”

These words struck her solidly, though it is unclear how much unseen implication these words carried. The ever faithful gray cat strode over, taking a consoling place on her lap. Vanna continued to fume, though she appeared to take great pleasure in the pain she caused Elli…

“How we long for silence. For Solitude.”

The composed one looked out over the landscape as the snow began to fall more heavily.

“Silence and Solitude! HA! And who should go and who should remain? Who should be silent? Which one of you will remain? Poor broken Elli. Do you ever consider that? Even if you get rid of me, you will never be whole. Never be what you were!”

She laughed coldly, both twins regarded her silently, one an emotionless mask… the other a mask of pain. An unheard wind tugged at their hair, and whipped the snow into a fury. Cruel laughter echoed about strangely as the snow obscured the scene from view yet again.

“We long for Silence…”

This too echoes eerily as you finally turn your gaze from the dizzying white expanse. The noise becomes deafening… before fading into an equally deafening silence as your own focus departs this place. But you know… in your heart that you will return here…
~~

A cold laugh cuts through the icy landscape. It gives you pause, and seems to still the turbulent winds. The snowflakes carried by the wind seem to settle quickly, almost fearful of the next blast of wind that will toss them about without care. They seem to cling together, as though they secretly fear the solitude that is so often discussed. The landscape seems to tremble… silent in the wake of cruel laughter that echoed about.

“Stay? You really think they will let you -stay- in the lovely place they call home?”

Twin fires of Emerald hate blaze as she speaks, perhaps the only warmth in the desolate place.

“They are only kind to you because they -pity- you! They want to fix poor broken little Eli. They won’t be able to fix you. Broken little twit.”

She regards the other two with a smug expression.

“It reminds me of home, but warmer… without Winter’s harsh touch…”

Her words are quiet, almost hesitant. She sits across from where Vanna stands, her hair obscuring much of her face. A short pace from the table, standing rather stiffly, her counterpart merely watches the two argue still, as they have for so long. A constant war, without an end in sight. The ever-present gray cat circling the twin figures of an Elf shattered.

“Then perhaps you will also remember how home burned to the ground? By your own hand no less… You did it Eli. That is what they saw. They hate you for it. They turned you away, ignored Velindur’s dying words. Called you a traitor!”

“I didn’t do it though!”

“We did not act ourselves. You acted for us, Vanna.”

“And you could do -nothing-! Someday… Just a matter of time… I learn as you learn. Remember that, little Eli. I’ll gain strength again. You will slip up and give your emotions just enough sway… I will needle in and finish what I started.”

She recoiled in her seat as though slapped…

“I’ll be more careful. Have been for more than a century. It won’t happen again Vanna. The only thing you will do -someday- is let me live free of your hate!”

Vanna merely chuckled as she folded her hands on the table.

“Oh yes. So many precious dreams to shatter, poor… Broken… Little… Helpless Eli.”

Her words were cold and piercing like the wind that picked up. It threw snow across the other’s tear streaked face. But they were not tears of grief, but of frustration and anger. Silently, the gray cat curled on her lap. A simple gesture of consolation. The other, calm and collected placed a hand on her twin’s shoulder.

“We will not let you harm any more. We will not let you turn us into a monster again. We will find Solitude in your Silence.”

The olive-skinned wizardess scoffed at the twin sorceresses. The entirety of one’s words without emotion… the other nearly crippled by it… an odd pair that were incomplete if separate… and yet not quite whole. Vanna could not resist the retort, and spoke with venom as the snow began to fall again.

“They will never allow you to stay in their pretty little glade. They will learn to hate you, and then they will destroy you once and for all. Especially since you hide behind an emotionless mask. They do not care for you as the others did. They will not hesitate to kill you.”

“To destroy us. You will die too, Vanna. We know this. We will ignore you now…”

Vanna’s laughter rang out and began to fade as the blizzard began its frenzy again. As the scene is white-washed from your eyes, you watch as cold logic seeks to offer some sort of comfort to wracking despair. A gentler comfort is offered from the feline companion, while across the table, very satisfied with herself, Vanna watches… and waits for her moment to strike…

“Have it your way… Third time is a charm…”
~~

The raging storm continues with a fury unmatched. The thunder is the only thing louder than the relentless wind. The snow is cast about, great flakes mixed with stinging sleet… not at all a gentle snowstorm. The whimsy of a ‘soft’ snowflake, and all the mystical aspects of a child viewing the magic of a winter season… a lost concept her. No… This is an angry thing, seeming to have a mind all its own, and very intent on burying all the world in white. The cold is bitter and biting… the snow and sleet intent on shielding all the world from view, and mercilessly halt any who would dare pass beyond the fringes of the storm.

When finally the winter beast is calmed, you find yourself looking in, curious how anyone could survive the storm… and surprised to see the trio of women and the gray cat… the three chairs are unoccupied, the table untouched by the winter landscape… Things are still for a moment. As you look on the scene you find it odd… comparatively speaking of course… for in this moment it was not Vanna on opposite sides… but the twins, who stood facing one another… Vanna near by, and watching rather smug. You crane your ears to hear through the landscape and weather… Things continue to echo oddly about, and while the storm has calmed… it is still unpleasant weather.

“We do not think it wise.”

Vanna looks between the two twins… inciting her own sort of mischief, her voice lacks its usual measure of malice… though the disdain is clearly there.

“Have you noticed… poor little Eli, how she never lets you have any fun? Never lets anyone close to you?”

The composed twin regards the other with level, almost unfeeling eyes. Standing opposed to her, the other twin looks almost indignant, angry… Her wild, dark hair dances about her face and shoulders, the wind and snow that tugs at the dark waves only adding to the emotion in her face and her voice. Where one is composed and still… the other is a mass of teeming emotion, unrestricted and both frightening and glorious to watch. That is not to say that there is not a beauty of sorts in the stillness… How fully opposed they seem, and yet… somehow so complimentary.

“We do not think it wise to allow such freedom of emotion, much less leave of one’s senses by way of drink. We know what could happen if we are not careful.”

“We? When did you gain the right to speak for me solely? When was I disallowed my own voice?”

“We are not trying to disallow you--”

“You aren’t? When was the last time that you let someone see you as anything but an emotionless ice queen?”

The wind seems to swirl about wildly… leaving one twin undisturbed and not so much as displacing a single hair… The other, seeming to dance with the wind. Vanna’s green eyes dancing with a fire that longs to be released from the cold prison… and burn the world to the ground… again.

“We do not think it wise… it hurt us greatly to lose Urúvan… to lose Velindur… and the others.”

“Yes. It hurt -me-! It hurt Eliania! The one we are both -part- of! But does that really mean that we have to turn the whole world away?”

“We do not wish to see us suffer again… We do not want to give Vanna or any other more fuel, lest she seek to destroy us again.”

“So -we- become stronger than Vanna, -we- are careful. -You- are part of -us-… Should I not speak from time to time, or must I always be barely beneath the surface? You speak as though we are part of the same thing, yet you push -ME- away!”

There is silence as the two regard each other… two sides of the same coin… and yet, incomplete.

“We do not think it wise. We give too much sway to emotion, and we risk Vanna’s corruption.”

To the side… and unbeknownst to the twin pair… Vanna smiles coldly.

“Only if I give her anger a foot hold. I learned well last time… Do you really think I forget what it cost us? What it cost me? Urúvan…”

Her voice trails off as emotion closes her throat. Coldly, calmly… her counterpart regards her… No sympathy, only cold logic.

“We can ignore Vanna, we are wise to her tricks and watchful.”

“You think I cannot? That I am not?!”

Her expression dances on anger… the unfeeling mirror image infuriates her. Overhead the storm clouds darken frighteningly, the very light of the world around them dims terrifyingly… Though it would appear the middle of the day… it now seems little more than a bare, moonlit night… No moon, no stars…

“She thinks you weak, Eli… poor broken Eliania. The others are asking questions. They are curious… Only a matter of time before they find out how broken you really are. How useless you have become. You will never be whole, I have become as much a part of you as that which I made sure you will never find…”

Vanna’s tone is taunting… now both twins regard her, the battle line redrawn. Lightning splits the sky. There is no warning as the storm breaks… this time, the tempest is wild, uncontrolled, full of anger and pain… pain… Is there weeping? Or is that merely the voice of the torturous wind? Already your view of the scene below becomes clouded, masked in heavy snow. The twins face the common enemy.

“You will not be a part of Me forever, Vanna! Even if I am never who I was again! I -will- be rid of you!”

"We will be rid of you."

The last line… spoken in unison. It rings, it echoes, one full of cold conviction, spoken in a way to say it was absolute fact... The other spoken and full of the hurt of betrayal… of loss. It seems to bounce from treetop to treetop, to dance with a frightening motion between the peaks of some distant, scarce seen mountains, it threatens to tear the world asunder… Slowly it mingles with the weeping wind until the sound is a lament of pain in a storm of grief… and all else is lost in a blinding cold, chill as death and as empty as a shattered heart.
~~

The world seems to sigh, take a deep breath… and go still. The raging wind quiets, first to a whisper and then to nothingness. The falling snow gradually slows… By the time the last snow flake touches her sisters on the chill landscape, nothing moves. The cat is seated amid the snow between the twins. They sit, side by side, one impassive and rigid, the other, chaotic to behold. Though she sits perfectly still, as her twin… Her eyes seem to swirl and dance with a liquid silver flame that her counterpart lacks. Composed and immobile, her eyes, still as blue ice, she does not look at the olive skinned malice across from them. In fact none of them look at each other. Even Vanna, though seething with her normal hatred, is still and quiet. Teeth clenched, she peers at the smooth wooden tabletop. They all do.

Nothing seems to move… Nothing seems to be alive. They all stare fixedly at the table. Emotionless, and in stark contrast to the vehement hate in Vanna’s green eyes, she does not stir as slowly the cloying silence… a thing that seems alien in this bizarre scenery… is replaced by the faintest strains of music. Perhaps most striking is the expression on the other twin’s face. A sad, soft smile touches her face as the music starts to fill the space. Oddly enough it seems to be drawn up from the table. The table they all stare at… as though it held some great secret…

Curious you lean forward from your perch. Vaguely, a nagging caution in the back of your mind claws its way to the surface. You hesitate. You worry, briefly if you too can fall into this place of madness. You wonder if it is possible for you to get lost in this winter prison… you are clutched by the inexplicable fear that if you peer too closely… reach too far… that you too… Will become nothing more than a voice to echo off the landscape…

You shake your head, curiosity taking hold again as the strains of music take form. Indeed it is as though the music itself threatens to consume the whole place. You wonder when it became so prevalent… it seems… insistent. You look closer, down on the surface of the table between the odd quartet. In the unnerving stillness… something glimmers off the glassy surface of the table.

She brushes the unruly waves from her face, next to her the picture of self control. Too contrasting expressions in the near-mirror images… and yet… Each shed one solitary tear. You watch as the twin tears trace identical paths down identical cheeks. Yet as it falls… only a single tear seems to ripple the smooth surface of the table. It is then that you are aware that the table no longer seems wholly solid, but more like a bowl of water… or perhaps just water on the surface? As the music dances about, a pair of figures seem to dance within the glassy surface…

It is a striking image. An enigmatic, moonlit glade. A northern forest in the barest grips of a spring thaw. The small patches of ice and snow that cling beneath evergreen pines seem to hold the stars from the sky above in an almost gentle embrace… An embrace the land seems to echo… music fills the senses. It seems all the world shimmers and lights in time to it. You can taste the gentle air. You can smell the damp pine… and it all seems tied to the haunting strains of melody that reach your ears. An embrace… shared by the pair as they dance in time to the music.

The pair are barefooted, unaware of the cold snow that sometimes envelopes their feet. Dressed in a rather simple silver dress that seems to accent her eyes and dark hair, the small Elven woman smiles. She says something and laughs, though the sound of each is barely heard over the music. The comparatively larger Elf she shares the dance with, leans to whisper in her ear. The twins sigh in wistful unison…

They are a striking pair. Each true to Elven graces. His eyes such a shade of brown they appear black in the light of the scene around them. His hair kept neatly back from his face, and kept tied neatly back into a short pony tail that halts just past his shoulders. The epitome of lithe in every sense of the word and well muscled. His tanned features chiseled and clean cut. Though the soft conversation goes unheard over the course of the dance… it is very clear that they care deeply for one another. Eyes seeming to mirror emotions that go unspoken. The song comes to a close, and the dance is sealed with a kiss before the image seems to fade.

The observers are all still and quiet. Seeming once again fully composed and unmoved by the scene that she was a part of, the first twin regards the second very briefly before looking away. Perhaps she was troubled by the gambit of emotions in her twin’s face? The bittersweet combination of remembrance, love and loss… She takes a shuddering breath trying to gain control of the emotions the image stirred… the memory of it… as she touches her own lips with a trembling hand.

Vanna, having observed everything quietly… sneers and waves her hand over the table’s surface. The music begins again… as does the scene. Slowly, it rises and demands focus. This time though, subtle differences. The pair share the glade in daylight. The music… the same soft and bittersweet waltz… seems to hold a different note… something more final. The snow is deeper, but does not hinder the movement of the pair in garb both graceful and appropriate for the weather.

The man smiles at her, much as he did in the first scene. This time though, her answering smile holds a different note. A gray streak darts between the two… The cat, agitated, seems to attempt to come between the dancers. The music continues.

As you watch the scene within the surface of the table, you become aware of the pair of footprints that now seem to dance around the table. The twins, one impassive, one gripped by the vision in front of her… meet eyes… and for a moment the two share a look of sheer dread. They look to the cat in unison, who merely twitches her ears… as if to say:
I tried… I’m sorry.

Across from them Vanna smiles… A twisted and cruel thing… sheer malignant joy as the music strains on. In the image on the table’s surface… The male looks to the cat concerned. His dance partner seems to assure him… to draw his attention from the cat… unbeknownst to him… she shoots the gat a daggering glare… uncharacteristic of the otherwise gentle face framed in dark hair.

The music comes to an almost hesitant stop… as do the dancers… and the footsteps in the snow. They pause just behind Vanna. The figures in the image regard each other. He poses a concerned question:

‘Eliania, what is it? What is wrong with her?’

He glances to the cat as she draws his face back to hers. She meets his eyes levelly.

‘The only thing wrong is that you loved her, and not me, Urúvan!’

A look of confusion registers on his features, and then a look of pain. Blood stains the snow behind Vanna’s seat… In the image, he looks down to the dagger buried fatally. Vanna begins to laugh as Uruvan’s confused and pained expression slowly takes the mask of death… the whispered name of his lover on his lips… his dying breath spent wondering why the woman he loved so much… would speak so… and kill him thus.

With a growl, furious and full of pain… the otherworldly stillness is broken. A rage that seems uncharacteristic, even of the emotional twin… consumes her as blood continues to stain the snow in a growing pattern … frighteningly stark against the white. Vanna continues to laugh.

“You monstrosity!”

She stands with such speed the chair flies back as she slams her fists on the table. The image shakes and dispels… Vanna’s laughter cold and uncaring.

“Jealousy! Was there a moment when any you slain was not out of some warped sense of self interest?!”

Vanna’s only answer is more laughter and cold glare as the snow begins to fall… silently it picks up pace. Great, fat snowflakes clinging to tear stained cheeks… The small gray cat jumps into the lap of the still seated twin… Her gesture comforting… as the other twin weeps. Great heaving sobs mix with Vanna’s laughter and echo oddly about. Silently… the snow seems to try to bury the pain… cover the blood… muffle the sounds… slowly the footprints from the image - given form inexplicably - are filled and hidden from view… the landscape is again seemingly untouched… and again, all is lost from your view.
~~

Her answer is simple... Though the argument that lead to it was not... You are left with the unsettling knowledge that there is more to it... something unseen or just beyond grasping... Something you are missing.

You watch as the pool of blood grows, seeping up from its now hidden place, and seems to be lapped up by the snow... It seems unnervingly as though the snow intends to soak up the growing measure of blood behind Vanna... No longer can it seem to bury it. No longer can it be hidden...

The storm reaches a new fury... the world trembles around them, around you... There is a battle here... and someone is losing...

You turn away from the blizzard, deeply unsettled. Having looked on something you do not understand... what was more unsettling was the look of confusion on the twin faces. Vanna had struck some sort of nerve, and you didn't know what. You dared not linger... and yet... curiosity would find you back here when the storm again calmed.

Though when that might be... was anyone's guess.
~~

It seems to take longer than usual for the storm to clear. It rages, then calms, only to rage anew… The whole place seems in conflict and a constant state of motion… There is nothing gentle about it, and for a moment you fear the entirety of this strange thing which has so long kept your attention… will simply shatter, and be no more.

When you think the turmoil could not possibly get any worse… it manages somehow, only to calm just before the inner conflict tears it to shreds. The violence of the storm leaves in its wake, a silence so profound and deep that it seems deafening. In the absence of movement, the stillness is so stark that it threatens to swallow everything all around it, even that beyond its reaches.

The storm has at last buried the traces of blood stained snow… And nearly all the landscape with it. The once tall mountains have fallen into rubble, stands of proud pine, humbled and bare. All is laid to waste in the retreat of anger, even the simple table and chairs, the splinters indecipherable from the scattered bits of pine needles. What is left is barren and unrecognizable, no aspect is left untouched, nothing left un-ravaged… In a world where nothing is whole… there is naught but pieces and fragments.

Your eyes scan the unrecognizable landscape as an implacable sense of dread creeps down your spine. What is it that worries you so? And where has the figures that have so long held your attention? Some part of you, fueled by curiosity, continues to search even when your mind rationalizes that nothing could have survived…

And indeed, were this a rational place your eyes wandered to, then perhaps that would be true. However, this place defies rationale. For there, having taken refuge among some boulders is the small gray feline. She too looks around in worried panic before moving cautiously forward. With this brave movement that breaks the stillness, your eyes land on a bedraggled trio. At first they might seem dead, as your eyes watch, you realize the stand off they are in.

Passion stands opposite Calm… and Vanna? Vanna who is all that hate and lust for power holds, she who embodies the darkness of one’s nature… It is she who stands most changed. She looks less like herself, so much less -separate- from the other two. Her green eyes still shine with hate, but her features adopt some of each twin. You are left with the vague uncertainty that she was ever truly separate… or perhaps that she is winning and becoming that which she once wished to destroy.

None speak. Each regards the other in a long silence. Finally, with a quiet voice that carries the expanse of the upheaval:

“Vanna is our hate… she is our jealousy, our darkness… she is that which we had lost... As we learn- As we grow stronger--”

“No!”

The passionate twin screams, looking to her counterpart and Vanna in disbelief, in denial.

“I am not her, she is not a part of who I am! I have always been a good and true heart.”

“Have you, Eli -dear-? Have you truly? I wished for your power… I wished you dead… but it was your hand. Yours Eliania that has wreaked so much havoc all these years.”

She sneers at the twins, who now regard her in an identical mask of horror.

“We are shattered, fragments… but you… Vanna… You are not of Us.”

“I’m not? I am now… and that is enough…”

“No! I won’t let you become stronger! I won’t let you hurt the others! I won’t.”

“Poor, shattered, little Eli… You won’t have a choice…”


They speak in frightening unison as in mirrored movement they raise a stone. With a terrifying and almost inhuman sounding voice they lung at Vanna who laughs… Her laughter is cut short though as all the world, and all you see goes dark, silent… and deathly still.
~~

Slowly, the darkness recedes, though at first where the light originates from is unclear. The ragged landscape seems more torn than usual… though it is not a physical manifestation, or in the least not one readily apparent. Instead it is simply the impression that something is out of place. Where this impression comes to you from, at first… is unknown.

Slower still, you focus on the faint light amid the heavy fog. A single candle in the darkness tosses feeble light out. The menacing edges of shadow infringe in the places where the light is stretched its thinnest. The small gray feline paces nervously near a fallen figure. A silhouette on the snow, shrouded in fog. Two figures stand side by side over the fallen one, these two are also nothing more than silhouettes in the thick air. Before any other details take form, blood stains the snow near the fallen form… A slow and insidious thing that leaves you with a sense of foreboding. Though you cannot say why… Finally the relative silence is broken.

“What have I done?”

Her voice trembles and is barely a whisper. Her hair winds aimlessly around her tear streaked face as she reaches a shaking hand to the form on the ground.

“You really shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, little Eli.”

As though Vanna’s voice is the cue in which the fog waited upon, it lifts. Vanna is standing next to the smaller Elven woman… who stands over her more composed counterpart.

“But don’t worry so much… I couldn’t be so lucky as for you to actually destroy yourself. Though you gave it a very good effort, Eli dear.”

She looks to the rock in Eliania’s hand, Eliania too looks at the blood on the stone with a measure of horror that is so profound it sends a chill down your own spine.

“Always hurting those who really care about you, little Eli… Even yourself, Especially yourself. I truly didn’t think it would be so easy… not after all this time.”

Her laugh is cut short as the smaller woman rounds on her.

“Shut -up-, Vanna. Shut up! You did this… you did all of this.”

“Ah but once again, Eli my dear… the bloodied weapon is in your hand. All your so called friends will look at you as the guilty one. So easy for you to do that hmm? Without even thinking.”

“I never would have hurt any of them! Not hurt them at all if it weren’t for you.”

“Of course you would. I am merely hastening the inevitable. It is only a matter of time. You had a knack for destroying everything you touched. What about the fire? Your parents? You can hardly blame that on me. I didn’t even know you then.”

She sneers.

“That wasn’t my- I … I didn’t do that on purpose. I never meant to… no one held that against me. The healers were able to help them… the scars weren’t that bad and our belongings could be replaced…”

“No, they ‘forgave’ you. Very different. Just as it was then, your lack of knowing yourself will be what destroys everything you care about.”

“No! I won’t. I won’t let you… I won’t make the same mistakes.”

She raises the stone against Vanna, her eyes a mask of pain and rage… the attack is quickly thwarted by the other woman. Vanna clutches Eliania’s wrist, twisting it at a cruel angle. With a cry of pain the stone falls helplessly to the snow.

Vanna’s eyes are cold and filled with enough hate to fuel a war for ages. She draws the smaller woman up, eye to eye, difficult now to tell where the breath of one ended and the other began… The remarkable change in Vanna more readily apparent. Her green eyes have shifted to blue… the dark brown hues of hair, faintly tinged with black… With an uncharacteristic gentleness… she kisses Eliania on the forehead.

“Poor… weak… little Eliania… You won’t have a choice. You aren’t strong enough alone. You never were.”

With a laugh she tosses her to the snow next to her calm, though now shattered mirror… and strides to a tree. She leans casually against the charred pine… simply waiting. Her expression one of a woman who has all the time in the world to watch the snow fall just where she wants it to.

Eliania quickly sets to tending her wounded ‘twin’. The murmurs of apology aren’t just to Echo… to herself… but to everyone… anyone … tears tinged with self-loathing as she begs forgiveness. Again the snow seems to try to bury the blood beneath another layer of crisp white… Just before the blizzard breaks into a shrouding fury… the unconscious woman takes a ragged breath. It is lost in the sound of the wind though… A mournful voice from storm to tree… It is difficult to say, but it seemed that all but Vanna wept in that barren landscape.

The last thing to rise above the storm to your ears is a prayer… a plead as the candle’s fragile light dies.

“Help me…”

At first the expanse of white that reaches your eyes seems endless. It seems alive. Pulsing and churning like some beast entrapped. It twists endlessly as if the only salvation it has is to keep moving. Eternal death throes, or the undying will to exist? It is difficult to say in this frigid place. You press a hand to the glass, and the shock of the cold sends a shudder up your arm… and then down your spine. You watch, hypnotized by the movement within…

And then something captures your eye. A single spot of color in the vastness. A mere drop. It draws your attention, begs your focus and refuses to let go. It drags you in, threatens to drown you, this small point of contrast… and then you realize it is not the only one. Not a single drop of blood, but many. It stains the white fury. The blizzard rages… and from somewhere… blood… so much that dread encroaches on your senses.

With painful slowness, the blizzard calms. It is almost as though the storm is aware that this time… it will not smother the red intrusion on its pure expanse. The snow falls gently. Amid the flakes, falling as some soft crimson rain is the blood. It covers the world with aching slowness, steady and unrelenting.

You were unaware of how quiet the place had become… unaware until the sound of sobs, barely heard at first, and now filling your perception of sound nearly as fully as the hypnotic storm had filled your sight. It comes from everywhere, a steady tide of grief that washes over every crevice. It comes from everywhere, and emanates from … nothing. You can not pinpoint its origin, and try as you might, you cannot see anything but blood red and falling snow.

Should you look away? Would you miss some small detail? Something—There. At the fringes of sight and sound… at the very edges of existence… A small form. A single creature, and she wears a mask of pain and sorrow. Perhaps it is this one who weeps. You peer at her through the curtain of red and white… but see no tears. The sobs echoing around you… through you… and yet they are no where, from no where, settle nowhere, they simply are there, as much as the snow or the land itself.

She stands so still, afraid or unable to move. She looks at nothing, her focus on some distant point in time or place. Her expression twists as though she bears some great weight. It is then that you are struck by her uncommonly tidy appearance. Her hair is neatly pinned, her crisp blue gown without spot or wrinkle, perfectly ordered save for the anguish in her eyes. You look for this crushing thing that bears down on her and see only snow and blood. In a moment of surprise, she blinks.

All at once a new sound overpowers the sobbing, stopping it short. She widens her eyes in surprise, mouth opening to a blood curdling scream. The usually composed image of the small elf is lost in her own scream. It is a chilling sound that stills everything around her just before she crumbles to the ground. Shattered and shuddering, everything goes deathly silent, her mouth opened in the scream that began but is no more. She lay there, still and silent… dead? No. She blinked.

It is then that you notice for the first time, the mirror image. The wild hair, tattered and stained blue dress. Looking somehow smaller than normal, her blue eyes shining with un-shed tears… her cheeks bearing the road map to grief of tears already passed. She regards her twin with silent sorrow, which is traded for fear as she kneels next to her.

“We shall fade here if we remain.”

Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper as emotionless eyes look up to fearful ones.

“No. I will not.”

“We are. Already we fade. We do not live. We cannot die… We shall drown in her Hate. Drown in blood.”

“No. I won’t let her do this.”

“We will not have a choice. The blood will drown us. The hate will destroy us.”

“No! I have been strong before. I will be strong now. I won’t let her do this. Not even here. I’ll find a way.”

“We are not strong enough. We are outnumbered.”

“No.”

“We were foolish. We allowed her to destroy us, blinded by love… destroyed by anger… We let her drown all we knew in her hate.”

“No! Stop it. I won’t listen to you. I won’t let her win. I won’t let her hurt them! I won’t. You are supposed to be strong. Help me. Help me fight her as we always have!”

“No… We are lost here. Her hate destroys us from within… His from without.”

“NO! That isn’t True! They won’t be able to. Stronger than that… we are stronger than that. I am stronger than that!”

“We will fade if we remain. We are not whole and in this we are shattered. Shattered by hate. We cannot stay here.”

“Then we won’t. I won’t, we can find a way out. Just… don’t leave me alone here. Please don’t leave me. Please help me.”

A sob shudders through her. She places a trembling hand on her still counterpart. They are pale looking. Both of them… mirror images of exhaustion and suffering, somehow smaller and more frail than they first appeared when you happened upon this place.

“We long for silence… We long to be whole.”

“Then help me. We can do this. Together. I don’t want to be alone. Please.”

“We have always been alone… since her hate.”

“That isn’t true!”

“Isn’t it?”

“Eli? Each other?”

“More fragments of the whole. We have been alone since she destroyed them.”

“I’m not alone now. Just let them see? Let them see me… I don’t have to be. There are many if you didn’t push me away… push them away… I don’t want to be alone... You don’t want it… We don’t want it… Just let me … exist?”

“You are weak, unpredictable. We risk too much… she would take advantage of it. We would be lost. We would fade.”

“Because I am stifled, A prisoner. You want silence? Then we must listen to our heart… not her hate… not my fear… not your… emptiness.”

“And if we are all of the same whole? What then? Will we then listen to her hate as well?”

“No--”

Whatever else might have been said is cut short. The self-assurance, and the reassurance of her counter part is lost. A cruel laughter permeates much as the sorrow had. In an uncharacteristic gesture of strength she dries her tears and shields her counterpart as though the laughter is a barrage of flame tipped arrows… It is then that you see how battered they are. So many wounds, so pale… Beaten and bruised, one shields the other as best as she is able… and the laughter continues.

It rings through your ears like thunder… the blood rain falls, and the blizzard tries desperately to bury them both… to cover the blood. The world is awash in blood stained snow, and laughter. Colder than the snow, more cruel and twisted than you thought possible. Each renewed fit of twisted glee only feeds the furious storm… until all you hear is laughter. For now the argument is laid to rest.

You turn away, as though to try to escape the malevolence… slowly all sound fades… You are left with a hallow feeling of despair… but somewhere, an almost non-existent flicker of hope remains… and then you realize, most gratefully… that you may choose to walk away.

There was music… at some point it might have been a beautiful Elven melody. And indeed once upon a snowy, moonlit night… it was. What was once a piece of Elven art had been twisted, contorted beyond recognition into some sort of mockery. Add to this, the ever present blizzard, and the now constantly encroaching blood rain… and you were left with the landscape’s most surreal and nightmarish image yet.

A sickening evil had made its presence known, quietly at first, and still yet unnamed and anonymous. Present none the less, as inescapable as the rain of blood that came from both no where and everywhere. The once pristine mountains now wept rivers of blood. The snow had become a frosted crimson, and somehow… it had all gotten frighteningly cold.

If your eyes scanned for familiar tree lines or such, it would find none. Nor would it find the ever present gray feline. The line between the three Elven women was becoming increasingly difficult to find. Indeed now, they all three appeared nearly identical. Only subtle differences gave them away. One neat and tidy, and seeming visibly weaker than the other two. Her voice when she speaks was a constant monotone. Another wild, possessing a passionate sort of beauty and a voice that spoke of loves and loss, of hopes and fears. Finally, one who was once easiest to recognize is now only discernable by her mocking smile and hate filled glare. Her voice too, will give her away, filled with contempt and anger.

More often than not the prim component of the trio is silent, as though it takes great effort for her to even breathe… as though not only her physical strength were fading… but her very presence… Faint though the change may be… she clearly was not well. She seems protected from her wrathful counterpoint… by her more passionate twin, and something… so vague it is but a mere impression.

An impression of a fourth silhouette that mirrors the other three taking shape and form, barely noticeable, hardly there… much as a single grain of rice in a mountain of straw. It goes overlooked and deemed insignificant by the to original twins if they even noticed it at all. It does not go unnoticed by all however… the third, still calling herself Vanna, seems mildly threatened by this new figure in her private playground.

In contrast, Vanna and the one she calls Eliania seem greatly strengthened. Often locked in a battle of wit and will, neither noticing the blood rain or biting wind. Nearly twin Mirrors, one who mourns, one who hates… Looking as though they have fought for millennia, appearing mildly battered and worn from the constant struggle. From the look of it, the battle is far from over… and presently there is no clear winner.

She taunts, flaunting the death and destruction of all that was lost… and the other counters with kindnesses lost, justified indignation perhaps… and a desire to simply understand why. A constant question with no real answer, at least not one she will ever understand. Occasionally their attention is drawn to their weakening triplet, or to the ever changing landscape… and the macabre music that continues to mock a once pleasant memory.

The whole place in flux, chaos runs rampant… but the scene before you draws more questions than answers… answers that will have to wait as the whirl of blood and snow once again cloud your view.
~~

It had taken days for the blood to get lost under layers of ceaseless snow. In that time, hardly anything stirred. The silver-haired feline stood guard over the triplets. No longer was there much visible difference between the three. The fourth figure, still little more than a vague impression of someone or something, silent, ever watchful over the three… an unsettling presence if only because it lacked eyes or a voice. This silent counterpart seemed a threat to none but Vanna… who now mirrored the twins in all but the hate in her eyes and the bitterness in her voice.

The landscape had once again become the colorless bounds of the deepest of winters, chill and heavy in its cold silence. It was unrelenting once again, unblemished, crisp white, quiet as though all the world slumbered in anticipation of Spring. A season that seemed forever out of grasp here as it were in the most frozen reaches of the Spine of the World… Strange how this place where one is never alone… can seem so solitary.

The one who answers to Echo, logical and composed, analytically cold… has grown weak and quiet. Her voice no longer rules over the others. She is watched over by the vaporous guardian that has taken form. She seems pale, listless… One might get the brief sense that she is dying, were that truly possible in this surreal place. Yet she remains protected by her voiceless guardian. Silently watching the others with an eyeless face of a boundless shadow.

The one who answers to Vanna is also quieter. Gone are the striking aspects that made her different from the others in appearance. Her clothes are neat, her hair well kept, in a long braid that is twisted neatly atop her head. The only evidence of the elf who was once in her place is the contemptuous gaze which is ever leveled at the others. The fire that burns in her heart smolders in her eyes. For now it seems… her arguments are kept at bay. This does not stop her from the occasional taunt that gets thrown at the others.

These taunts are met with silence. Eyes full of sadness, and even hope now, study the landscape and this odd collection of mirrors. Her hair twists in waves, wild and still it suits her, for she always was more passionate, why should her hair not mirror this? She is somehow strengthened in the wake of the turmoil that once gripped the place. Perhaps due to the fact that Vanna’s attentions are divided among the fading obstacle that once stood in her way, and the shadow that she regards with uncharacteristic fear.

Yet, regardless of why, she is stronger, more vibrant. She too, remains quiet… her focus on some distant moment or place. In the depths of that distance something causes her to smile, however faint that smile is. A smile that is brief for it draws from her companions a new argument, which pulls the sadness back into her gaze. Vanna who taunts it, Echo who counsels against it… Yet Eliania smiles, enjoying the brief moments she may in the stillness.

The gray feline paces silently, her trackless steps falling quiet on the expanse of white. Her eyes regard the shadow with interest, as though she understands something the others are not capable of. Whatever it is this new figure represents… whatever it may hold for the triplets, it intrigues the cat. Whatever secrets the cat may hold… she keeps from her mistress, a Cheshire grin all there is to hint at what is yet to come.

The snow falls with a fury, as though to make certain that all traces of blood are gone from the land around them…

An eternal world in an eternal winter… and yet it was not as unchanging as it once was. After centuries, gone were the twins and their nemesis. Instead there were triplets and what can only be described as a ray of hope. It was not the imposing shadow it once was, but rather a glimmer of light in a desolate landscape. An opalescent shimmer, barely there at all, and in constant shadow of the now quietly composed Elf. Her passionate and unruly counterpart stood guard with the gray feline that was in constant company.

Vanna, who had been silent for some time had found her voice, and she once again stood opposite of the others. She regards her new mirrors warily, and regards the shimmer as someone might regard a trick of the light most of the time. Other moments, she regards it with a fear and a loathing previously reserved for Eliania. Now though she merely laughed.

“My poor dear Eliania! How do you find such fools. To think I need saving and that you are worthy of his attentions!”

She falls into more laughter.

“So now the thoughts of others amuse you, Vanna?”

“I will admit it is amusing that it’s a pointless endeavor. he fawns over you like a child. You do know it is pity, and not love? Yes? No one can truly love a thing so broken. Enjoy your freedom, little Eliania, we both know it won’t last.”

“And why wouldn’t it?”

“Do you truly think whatever is happening with her won’t effect you badly somehow? Do you truly think that cold, unfeeling thing who imprisons us here is going to let you to continue?”

“She is not keeping us here… this place has always been.”

“Has it Eliania? Always?”

Vanna sneers watching the confusion as the other woman must give Vanna’s words thought. A clap of thunder splits the silence. The clouds that loom overhead are dark and ominous… a breeze stirs the gray and lifeless landscape.

“You can’t remember at time before this place because you are –broken- Eli. Shattered.”

A weak voice speaks, barely above a whisper.

“We remember the spring… when there was life and love and laughter… We remember the agony that followed. Summer heat, hate… Vanna’s hate… and it burned everything… There is less pain in the cold winter. Less grief. It is wisest if we do not look forward to spring… lest summer leave us in ashes again…”

The voice trails off, the words striking Eliania like well placed slaps. Vanna laughs again.

“My hate? My -hate-? What a fool you truly are. I only took what I wanted… and gave you what you didn’t even know you needed!”

“Gave me? All you gave me was death and pain! You -took- what was never yours!”

“They all held us back, Eliania. What I did set us free… well me at least. They would have never let us learn what I’ve learned, what you’ve learned since then.”

“Because you wanted to learn foul magics! Curses, unnatural life… It was vile, Vanna. And look at what it did! This is not freedom!”

She gestures around them wildly.

“No. No it isn’t. But you are -losing- it Eliania! And when you finally give up to the oblivion you have been fighting for so many decades, I’ll get the freedom I crave… Aren’t you tired of fighting… of grieving… of being trapped here?”

Behind them a shimmer… nothing more… out of the corner of your eye.

“You killed them! They loved me… you… us! And you killed them!”

“Even then they pitied you, Eli. Such and awkward and shy thing you were. Clumsy. Barely able to control the magic in your veins. That is why your parents sent you to Velindur in the first place isn’t it? They feared you. After all, you electrocuted all the plants about your home… It scared them.”

“They wanted me to learn. Velindur was wise and knowledgeable.”

“And even he pitied you. His last words to you were apologies.”

Eliania shakes her head.

“That he couldn’t stop you, Vanna.”

“Yes! That he couldn’t stop me from making your graceless husk something more! Your love held you back! Love couldn’t hold you there… Not if you were to truly become something spectacular. And yes. I would have it for myself. But not if you never reached for greatness! Any that loved you--”

“You murdered for Spite!”

“I removed the obstacle.”

“You have no heart, Vanna… no conscience… I’ll never understand what happened…”

“I grew tired of being in your shadow, of being the second choice. Velindur said it was because I needed less guidance… but he was such a fool to think I would believe those lies! And he died for his assumptions.”

“Vanna… I won’t let you hurt the others. So long now you have sought the easiest ways. You couldn't be content with your own power. No... you coveted my skill... even though I was no match for you. It was sheer luck I lasted as long as I did against you. I was weak then. I will find a way though, I am stronger now than I ever was. I will not let you hurt them for your own greed.”

“And how will you stop me? You are barely in control here. You don’t honestly care for that blubbering tin can do you? Or any of your so called friends? They look at you as though you are insane. They fear you too. They will hold you back. I’d be doing you a favor by putting an end to it--”

“No!”

Lightning splits the sky, amid the snow which has been falling heavier and heavier… ice rains down, cold and biting. None pay it heed, save for the gray feline who takes shelter under an outcropping of rock.

“Oh, now who is angry?”

Vanna laughs.

“This is why I will win, and you will become a whisper just as she has. Logic has no place in the quest to hold power. Nor does faith… or love… kindness… All there is, and ever will be is the fire that fuels the hunger… and it will consume everything. You are weak, Eliania. No different than I, save for your weaknesses. Those weaknesses will destroy you.”

“No. You’re wrong. I won’t let you.”

The storm intensifies. Vanna smiles. Behind them another shimmer. Quiet on her bed of snow, she raises a pleading hand.

“Our hurt cannot become hate… it cannot become her hate… we cannot…”

But the words are lost to the blinding storm, now intent on casing all the world in ice. Vanna’s smile turns to one of worry as the lightning strikes dangerously close. She too seeks shelter in a nearby cave. The other falls from her snowy pedestal… crawling weakly to the shelter the cat now paces in… In a blink the shimmer stands before Eliania… The storm now a dangerous tempest… and suddenly everything goes dark and still. The snow falls in thick procession… and all that is heard is the mournful winds.

They sat in a circle in the snow, which for now fell in gentle waves of soft white. The one named Vanna regarded the others with a mix of worry, loathing and fear. Across from her sat the one named Eliania… These two mirrored each other. The only difference was their expressions. Eliania regarded the others with worry… but for Vanna she held only sadness and pity. These heartfelt looks only garnered more anger from Vanna. To the side of each, in characteristic serenity… Sits the third, though she seems faded, she does look mildly better than she has previously. She is also the only one of the three who casts a shadow… Perhaps this shadow is the one that protected her? Has she gained form? It is difficult to say.

“We think there is truth to this. To what we have read. This gives us cause to rethink much.”

Vanna just sneers.

“Belief then, and … logic?”

The one called Echo nods, her shadow flickering in agreement.

“And… heart?”

The question comes hesitantly, but is answered with another nod and flicker. In outrage Vanna slams a fist into the snow in front of her.

“Oh will you listen to you! All of you. None of you can choose for yourselves… Every little thing is a big debate. You’ll never be whole, you’ll never find what Velindur sent you after!”

“Your anger only proves him.”

“And your sniveling leads him about like a dog on a leash. At least that amuses me!”

“I meant Velindur, you knew that. As for -him-, he is under no false assumptions.

“So you think. Does he think to replace your beloved Urúvan? Fool, he is weak, and he will die old as you hardly age a day in the blink his life will be!”

Eliania smiles sadly, shaking her head at Vanna.

“That is his choice to make, and though none can replace Urúvan in my heart, this does not mean I am disallowed to seek a friend or…”

She trails off and Vanna laughs coldly

“So you -do- care for him… Which means in time you will love him, and the suffering borne of his loss will be beautiful.”

“I shall not give you my grief again… instead you shall hear endlessly of simply joys and fond memories. You can’t come to terms with it, can you… that anyone could love you. I loved you. Nimthanon loved you. Even Velindur and the others. They all loved you.”

“She does not wish our happiness… Only our death. The gods have failed to grant her wish with permanency. We bear no illusions that they will answer ours more so and with more longevity. The gods we think believe in that sort of equality and fairness. We think we understand them more in their lack of honeyed benevolence. Still we will learn to love her as we once did.”

“The difference between pity and love is as stark as that between night and day!”

The vehemence in her is only fed to further ire by the sympathetic look that Eliania offers her. The shadow flickers. Eliania speaks.

“This is true, but you were never good at telling the difference. You always mistook one for the other. You -were- loved. You -were- respected.”

“Oh was I now?”

“We loved and respected you before you turned that love to grief and that respect to fear.”

“As your lover says, there are few emotions stronger than hate and fear.”

“I make no such claim on him as it is not for -me- to do so. You only bring him into this because he irritates you, because you despise his kindness. You hate him, perhaps more than Urúvan, though I wonder why, since he has not made the claims that Urúvan did. I enjoy our talks. He may raise questions I would be anxious to see answered, but he does speak some wisdom where you are concerned, Vanna.”

Echo looks to Eliania, ignoring Vanna’s temper entirely. Vanna, no doubt was working up a barb for Eliania… but this gets offset by Echo’s words.

“We wonder if she shall learn before it destroys her. If she will see how weak her hate is, how weak it makes her, and how it will be undone in time. She will fade, we know this.”

“Don’t speak of me as though I am not present!”

Her face contorts in a rage.

“I do not need your love, I do not need your pity or your care, only your compliance and your suffering!”

“You have had both, we now think it is time for us to give what you need. He is right, we think.”

In a growl of fury, Vanna rises and glares at the others. She stands and storms over to the tree line, pacing in unspent rage. Echo and Eliania look to one another. The first time they have agreed in more than a century… Truly agreed. Eliania smiles sadly, Echo nods… In some sort of symbolism, be it design or metaphor, intent or side effect, the shadow touches each…

Nothing else moves. Save for the swishing of a gray tail upon a rock, Vanna’s fury, and the gentle fall of snow… Everything… Is silent.