That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
— Sonet 73 By William Shakespeare —
It was a bitterly cold winter night. The ground and the trees were covered with a thick layer of snow. The frost snapped the twigs of the trees she passed. When she reached the mountain stream, she found that its waters hung motionless in the air, as if Auril herself had kissed them. The little squirrels that lived in the hollow of a tall fir tree rubbed their noses together to keep warm. The rabbits in their burrows curled up into balls and didn’t even dare peek out the entrance. The only inhabitants of the forest who rejoiced in such weather were the owls. Their wings had stiffened from the frost, but that didn’t bother them at all. They rolled their huge, yellow eyes and called to one another across the forest.
She walked without slowing down, gliding across the packed snow, where her long, red hair looked like a bloodstain against the landscape. Once she got stuck in a deep snowdrift. Another time she slipped on the hard, smooth ice of a frozen marsh. Yet another time she seemed to have lost her way and was gripped by a great fear, for she knew that snow was cruel to those who fell asleep in its embrace. But eventually she found her way. From then on, she walked cautiously until she reached a clearing. Finally, she found it.
The black oak was the largest and most magnificent tree in the forest; its crown towered above all the other trees. She thought that in the spring, wild pigeons might nest in that green crown, and in the fall, when the leaves seem to be cast in copper, migratory birds might fly there. But it was winter, the tree stood bare of leaves, its tangled, gnarled branches clearly visible. Had any living creature ever dared to slip between them? The oak cast a cold shadow around. Not even snow lay near it, only the bare gray earth. The trunk of the giant tree was covered with ugly gray bark, but when she struggled to reach it and placed her hand on it, she felt life pulsing beneath. She could not rise. But there she lay content. “I have found my mate. Nature, I’m your bride. Take me” she whispered, surrendering in delight to the cool embrace of the wind. “I could lie here... My forehead will always be cool. There will be no more wild dreams. My hands shall wear no engagement ring. The roots shall twine about them”.
Perhaps it will be better to lie here in peace, with only the dark sky above her.
For a moment, she felt the urge to finally end it all right here, in this place dedicated to the god. To fall asleep in the snow. It wasn’t the ending she’d dreamed of, but at least she wouldn’t have to wake up each night, terrified that the dark-skinned, red-eyed demons were still chasing her.
She gently stroked the dark bark, feeling the symbols carved into it beneath her fingertips. A broken arrow above a tear.
“I give myself to you, Shevarash” she thought.
She needed no words of prayer. The wrath and hatred in her chest fueled her burning rage. To give them voice would only have weakened the flames. If she spoke them aloud, she might find she was satisfied with that.
So she poured them into her blade.
Into her sword.
Into her gaze.
