Burnt Out Ends of Smoky Days

He had sunk Healing into everyone he could reach, until he had drained himself dry and staggered away to retch dust and phlegm out of his throat and lungs against the side of a building. He had pushed himself as far as he could and then he had somehow, impossibly, made it home again. To Rory, and tears that fell as he told the tale of the day to the grim-faced farmer whose eyes grew more hollow with every passing season.

He had returned the next day to shift debris, beginning the slow process of removing the mud, the bodies, the trampled food and scattered belongings. Items that could be salvaged were collected into rough boxes, for even in the midst of tragedy there was the Grounder knowledge that nothing could be wasted. Resources were scarce and precious, and even splintered wood too weak to support anything ever again could still be used for LongNight firewood in a few seasons’ time.

It was twilight and the stars were winking into being in the darkening sky above. Jigano glared bitterly at them for a time before waving off the last of those who were shuffling despairingly home, far too many to homes with missing family members. Dead, or tucked into the Infirmary or other makeshift medic homes tonight. He waited until things had grown quiet before he unhooked Ludo’s lantern from his belt and began to sing the strange, wordless song the god had given him as he walked the fields, calling to the souls that had been lost and unable to find their way to Ludo and Mort yet.

Maea

It was hard to let go of things. Places. People. Memories of better days. When the air was warm and the wind smelled of green leaves, dust and flowers in bloom, it was hard to remember the bad things, the sad songs or the goodbyes. In the light, under the sun, it was easier to hold on to the good. But when the sun set, and the shadows came closer, so did the regret. It seemed that the stars overhead just wasn't enough to keep it at bay, no matter how brightly they shone.

A thin mist crept over the fields, stirring on a gentle breeze. As it passed, the leaves of trees stirred, in bushes and thickets. There was a bird singing in the distance, a lone and mournful tune that echoed another evening, another moment in the river of time. Not so far removed to be forgotten, no. But too far off now to ever reach again. It's song was picked up and mirrored by another singer, the reverberating voices of bird and man merging into one strange melody. Haunting. So beautiful it might send chills down a spine.

It made the girl pause on her meandering path across a field. She wore a simple dress, homespun and worn from too much use. The shoulders were covered in a ragged black shawl, and her pale hair had been let down to flow in a moonlight river down the back. The stars drained her eyes of what little color they possessed as she turned to look for the singer, but when she saw the light of the lantern and the figure who held it, she smiled. Without a word she changed direction, and began to move towards the Soul Shepherd, on feet that barely made a sound.

He was out calling to ghosts in the rising mist of falling night, and at first he thought that was what the spectral figure approaching was. Pale but for a tattered black shawl around her shoulders she drifted almost soundlessly across grass still damp with melted ice and the last of the Flowerbirth rains (and blood, and mud, and less kindly things). The motion caught his eye, turning to face the spirit called home by lantern light and limbo's song and for a moment his heart caught in his throat as white hair and pale skin bespoke a spirit he had long since lost and never thought to find again within the Hollowed Grounds' bounds.

"Maea?" he breathed, the name filled with pain and prayer and a heartaching loss. One of his Loreseekers. One of his friends. But as long as she had been merely missing there had been the faintest of misplaced hopes that she might return again someday.

Not like this, though. Not a wraith in the night when so many more had already been lost or wounded deeply.

But then she came closer and he saw, in the unflickering white light of his lantern, the dew that dampened the hem of her dress. The rise and fall of her chest. The footprints she left behind in the trampled grass. He drew a breath, flinging a prayer to the old gods as a whole as he stepped forward and tried to wrap his arms fiercely around her, pulling her close in blatant disregard for the personal space he had once kept so zealously between himself and all others.

So much had changed in the past year. So many had died a mere day before.

"Gods most fortunate, I thought I'd lost you, too," he whispered, his hug gentle but firm if she allowed it.

There was something in the way he said her name that made the girl's chest tighten. Once again, it seemed she had underestimated her friends. Their capacity for love and caring. the way they allowed her to own a place in their lives. Perhaps it was a lifetime of being overlooked and disregarded that made it so easy for her to believe she didn't matter, but habit should not be allowed to excuse her from trust. Not even when it was hard. Especially not when it was important.

Still. The sheer intensity in Jigano's relief took her by surprise. As did the hug. She did not resist it, far too startled by the unusual display of affection to do anything at all. It was... not uncomfortable. Quite the opposite. The Provost was warm, and smelled of herbs, old books and a shirt that probably had been very clean when he put it on, a long day's hard work ago. His voice sounded odd so close to her ears, far softer than her memory wanted to suggest. When had it been? She couldn't quite recall, but they had exchanged hard words and tense looks, vented frustration and warring ideas.

That seemed a very distant thing now.

Slowly, not sure if she ought to be delighted or embarrassed by the unexpected intimacy, Maea returned the embrace with shy hands around his waist.

"I'm sorry I made you worry" she said, voice a little muffled against his chest. "I didn't mean to leave, never wanted to be away for this long."

And it had been a very long time. Now, more than ever she realized it. When had Jigano become a hugger? Since when did he carry a lantern and walk the night like a second coming of Ludo? It had been enough time to change him, to shape him, and it pained her to realize she had not been there to see any of it. To help, offer support or just... be there. To bear witness.

She was warm and solid and real in his arms and he squeezed her again before stepping back to hold her at arm's length, looking at features he'd more than half-thought he'd never see again. They had their differences in the past, and perhaps would again in the future, but for the present he was just glad that she was alive when the deaths of so many yet hung heavy in the air and in hearts grown far too used to sorrow.

"I'm just glad your back," he reassured her, brushing aside the apology as irrelevant. Her return more than made up for the worry he had felt for the past four seasons and he smiled down at her, chest tight with disbelief and joy. A nightbird cried again in the distance and he shook his head, joy glimmering in eyes that caught the fading rays of day. "But what happened to you, Maea? Where did you go and... and why?"

She looked up at Jigano, and actually looked, as if it was the first time. Truthfully, it might as well have been. For the better part of the time she'd known him, the Sage had been little more than a blur of colors in her eyes, a tall shape of whites and greens and a hint of golden brown where face and hands showed. It was sometimes very easy to forget about Ludo's most precious gift, because she'd gotten used to it so quickly. But now, realizing that she could actually see the face of her friend? She thanked the dark herald all over again, and gave Jigano a wide grin in response.

"It's a mystery even to me" she confessed, but didn't stop smiling - even the strange topic of her whereabouts couldn't put a damper on the joy she felt in that moment. "You know I was sick for a while, when my... project ran out in the sand? It seemed to get better after, but after a time the fevers got worse again. I was probably rather delirious. Saw things, heard voices... for a moment I swear I talked to Noah. My brother. Then I remember walking in the Greatwoods, and being caught in a storm. It felt like I was walking for days. Then, all of a sudden the storm cleared and I was standing in snow. Out on the tundra, in Halo. I was found there, and they told me it'd been a lot more than a few days since... since I left home."

The grin faltered a bit. She'd only just been at the farm, and found it left abandoned. Empty, open to the wind and rain, damaged beyond repair. And here, on the festival grounds... She looked away, gaze sweeping over the ground, the shambled remnants of what should have been the happiest of celebrations. Something red caught her eye and Maea quickly looked away. Didn't want to see. Didn't want to know, not just yet, what it was.

"It's... a bit confusing" she admitted. Returning her focus to Jigano was a relief, a safe place to rest her eyes. Even if he did look tired, and worn. Exhausted, actually. The girl frowned and reached for one of his hands - if touching still was allowed, she wasn't sure.

"Are you alright?"

Her smile was more welcome amidst the memories of screams and recent death than he could say, a reminder that life went on and that sometimes those thought lost were returned to them.

Not Aoife, perhaps. But if Maea could disappear and come back again, maybe Remi and Ronin could as well? Dreams that seemed suddenly to have a grain of true hope again, thanks to his lost friend's return.

He listened gravely to her tale, nodding understanding of fevers and delirium, a bitter smile threatening to crease his mouth though he held it in check. He, too, had experienced such after his own brief kingship. A sickness that had taken his senses for a week, left him helpless and lost far from his home - but not so far as Maea had been. He had only wandered in his fever-dreams as far as the Oasis. She had gone much farther, and been gone much longer, and he nodded wry agreement that she had been gone more than 'a few days.' "A year and a day, more like," he said gently. "Like something out of a fairy tale." And perhaps she had been spirited away. Not by the Fae, no, but by spirits like those that had led Caiside away in that first ill-fated exploration of the Greatwood. Or those elemental spirits they sometimes stumbled across, the ones that granted gifts to some lucky few and left others wrung-out and ill-used by the trial. "But your memory might return if you give it time. What matters is that you are back now." Amnesia was hardly uncommon here, between portals and blights and illnesses and spirits.

He smiled, the expression growing sad at her concern, and he permitted the touch, glad of the living warmth on a field where so many had died. "I am better off than most," he answered gently, remembering how his trust in Amalia, in leaning on her in his weakness, had lead to such a schism between them. He would not repeat the mistake he had made with the sister of his heart with another, much less one who had only just returned to her own heartaches and burdens. "No one is 'alright' after what happened here but... Rory wasn't here, so he's unharmed. Most of the Loreseekers made it through. But Amalia was... is... badly hurt," he admitted softly. "Beyond the power of even magic to heal. With time, perhaps, she'll regain full use of her legs. But it will not likely be soon." He remained a moment longer before pulling away to look out over the field, the softness fading to a grim sorrow as the rising sliver moon cast a faint light over the fields, gentled now with the shadows at the tail end of the day.

It was, and for the first time Maea could honestly say she wished herself back to the old, boring days. Before monsters, before blood, before death and tragedy... But then she remembered that there had been heartache and sorrows before a firebird had landed and made her world into a story. It had only been a different kind of struggles. Back then, she'd had her brother to share them with, and now... She regarded Jigano. He still reminded her of Noah. Not in looks, no, or manners, but in the way he cared about people. The genuine concern, the tendency to put others before himself and take so much weight upon himself that he'd crumble at any moment. Her brother would have laughed, and perhaps shared some of the worries with her, but let her carry the burden? Oh no, he wouldn't have dreamed of it. Not even when it was what she really wanted, and craved. To be needed.

"Yes, well. I'm not planning on going anywhere anytime soon, so don't you start worry that I'll disappear on you again." Her grin was soft, almost playful; it would have been easy to to promise the world in that moment, and she nearly did.

But the cconversation turned to darker matters, to open wounds and broken bodies, and her smile faded when Jigano told her of Amalia. It was the first she'd heard of the childhood friend being injured; the carnage at the Fiat Lux and the disaster of the Temple falling had reached her already even out in the Fields, but this? Something tightened in her chest, genuine worry blooming for a girl that had been a friend - or almost a friend - for as long as Maea could remember. For a moment, she remembered none of the bitterness or the sorrow, just a laughing child running under a golden sun. Her hand tightened its grip on Jigano's. Swallowing hard, she nodded, distant, trying to remember everything she'd ever been taught of healing, of magic, of the power of the gods - there had to be a way to fix it, had to! - and then...

Then she sighed. Let go of his hand, and pulled the shawl tighter about her shoulders as she looked out over the field. Forced herself to actually look and see the mess. The blood. The crushed dreams and shattered hopes that lay strewn around them.

"I always loved her, you know" Maea said, after a while. Her voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper. "Did I tell you that we grew up together? I was sick often, and her mother was a healer. She used to sit with me when I was ill, and Amalia would come along when there was no one else to look after her. She brought Evie along for company... I watched them play from the window, while I was stuck in bed."

It had been a mixed joy, to see them. Two laughing girls, sometimes joined by Rory and Noah. They had been beautiful, cheerful... and terribly distant. Something to long for, and envy at the same time.

"I liked Amalia, wanted to be her friend too. But... I think she resented me taking so much time from her mom. Or maybe she just didn't like me as much, I don't know. Evie really didn't like me, at any rate, so maybe it just.. rubbed off. As we grew older..." Maea shrugged, helplessly. They'd had a lot of things in common. Love of the gods, hopes, dreams. To read through all the books in the Aetheneum, to go on adventures, make the barrier fall and then..! The world beyond. Except, all of that came to Amalia, and not herself.

"It's really hard to be around people and see them succeed where you don't. I really try not to hold it against her, but sometimes... Still, I really don't want this for her, you know? To be so hurt. To maybe never walk again."

She shrugged, helplessly. Half apologetic, not knowing why she was saying all of this, except it was burning the back of her throat and she wanted it out, now, before she choked on it.

The smile he gave her reassurance did not lose its sadness, for much had happened since she had gone. She had not been the only one to disappear, not even among the Loreseekers. More, Safrin had reprimanded him harshly for his own claims to promises he could not keep. Words like 'I won't leave you,' or 'You're the most important thing to me.'

Or 'You'll be okay.'

He said nothing while Maea reminisced, only nodded along and looked at her from time to time as he listened to a little bit more of the past come to light, letting her speak at her own pace. The moon was thin but struck a ghostly halo around her white hair. It wasn't quite the same tale that Amalia would tell, he thought ruefully, or Evie for that matter, the Wordsworth daughter a friend of his now as well. Each young woman had their own lens that they saw the past through, different still than Rory's and Sam's. That Amalia and Maea had never been close, though, that was consistent. That Amalia's mother had spent more time with Maea than her own daughter was as well.

They were certainly an interesting pair. Amalia, beloved of Safrin and Maea, who danced with Ludo, each with divine gifts to show their status with their respective gods. Lovers though Mort and Vi might be, Ludo and Safrin always seemed to strike sparks from one another. It was not so far-fetched that those who would one day become their devotees would do the same.

His throat tightened and he swallowed an unexpected lump at Maea's disarming openness and honesty, the truth she spilled so unself-consciously. He nodded a little jerkily at the envy. "It is never easy, being the one left behind. The one who never quite makes the difference," he agreed softly. "There is... a great deal of that going around right now, I suspect. Loren, a recent addition to the Loreseekers, and Phoebe fought the monster that attacked the festival. Because they could not stop it, Remi nearly died. His and Ronin's daughter... did." He paused to swallow again, hearing Loren's hollow mental voice in his head once more as the Launceleyn had recounted the news. "I think they will long be asking themselves what would have happened had others been there in their places. But Ronin... he went mad with grief and attacked the Temple and the Shrine. I was with those who tried to stop him but... we failed as well. And Amalia is hurt because I didn't pause to make sure she got out of the building before I did. As Deimos or Remi would have done." He would have survived. He would have hurt, but he was sure he would have survived it, somehow. Instead he had fled, thinking her right behind him when...

When she hadn't been.

And those that blamed him for her injuries? They were right. He hadn't succeeded and because of that, others had suffered for his weakness.

"Even so, many others don't even have their lives. Everyone is asking what more they could have done, or what they could have done differently. If only we'd had more strength or magic or cunning or... something. None of us were enough that day." He shook his head turning to give his guildmate a wry, sad smile. "In hindsight, I wish someone had succeeded. I would rather be jealous than in mourning." A different way to look at the world, a lesson hard-learned and unwanted, and perhaps one Maea wasn't yet ready for yet. Gods knew he still clung to his own petty jealousies long past when he should have let them die and moved on with his life.

The way he listened without seeming to judge what she said was perhaps the greatest welcome-back gift Jigano could have given her. As he responded with his own reflections, Maea listened and felt something in her chest gradually ease. In all honesty she had not been sure how this encounter would pan out, considering the tensions that had existed between them in the past, but it seemed that a year in limbo was enough to put such things behind them, at least for tonight. It was a relief, a blessing if you will, and even more so as she was given the chance to do for him what he'd done for her.

Just listen.

She thought of Remi, whom she'd only met briefly with a small swaddling child strapped to his chest. Thought of Ronin, whom she'd only seen in the distance, fighting - and dying - to change the world. She thought of the friends she knew, strangers she'd heard of or didn't know at all, and the stains of crimson in the grass became more than just blood. More than just mud and water and pieces of broken things. This place... it was a monument to failure. A grand, and horrifying example of what the worst could be, if everything really went wrong. The festival... a lot of people had been there, yes, but what if the monster had attacked the Settlement instead? On a day when not everyone with a fighting chance was around, when children played in the streets, when people were distracted, scattered, inattentive. The thought was horrifying.

"I suppose," she said slowly, trailing the gaze back to Jigano, "that we will all have to learn from this. Make it a new starting point, and try to grow. Become stronger. Better. So that we will not have to ask ourselves those things again, or clean up another battleground full of beloved dead. I would indeed take jealousy over tragedy, any day. Perhaps it will just be easier to live with, if I know that I've really done all I can myself as well."

There were no excuses left now, in her case. The farm was gone, so she had no distractions. Her eyes were fine, better than they had ever been, and her health... well. That too was better than it used to be. She would learn how to read properly. Pick up that rapier again, if Jigano would continue to teach her. Study, develop her skills and knowledge, and then... maybe the gods would start to smile, even at someone like her.

"I want to be a Loreseeker," she told her friend with a shy smile, in an echo of the first conversation they ever had. "I've thought about it a lot these past days, and that's all I come back to, what I really want. I'm not very good at a lot of things right now, but I will work hard, so that I will be one day. Would you have me?"

Holding out a small, pale hand towards Jigano, Maea sought his gaze to hold it, and show how serious she was.

He was lucky to have friends who listened to him. Amalia and Rory, of course, but more recently Loren, Adam... even Deimos, at times. He appreciated that Maea let him speak his rambling thoughts, and when he finished he looked down at the lantern in his grasp, its white light shining softly through the growing dark. Maea's voice reached him, stating truths she could not know had been stated again and again over the past year, each time with a little less hope and optimism in them, determination eroded down by weary repetition. He simply nodded, wondering how many starting points they could have before they lost all meaning, but if it gave Maea strength he would not take it from her. He smiled for her, for the wisdom she fought for, but there was little he could add to it anymore.

Her next words brought more joy, however, a renewal of old promises and the start of their friendship. His smile widened as he took her hand carefully in his, squeezing it gently. "Of course we will, Maea. Welcome home." He spoke softly, warmth in his voice as well as his eyes as she answered the silent question he hadn't known how to ask. "We've something of an influx of new members at the moment, so there are many new people for you to meet. Loren, an Outlander mage and more recently an Attuned as well. Ingrid, who comes from Halo, irreverent and full of questions. Tarasha, a Fae of exquisite skill with needle and dye. Amalia and Sam you already know though..." he hesitated, sighing. "Sam has changed greatly since you left. He is finding his courage, but he has found it through a slavish loyalty to the Voice. Gods least fortunate, so much has happened..." He shook his head ruefully, leading Maea towards a large stone that had once marked one of the boundaries of the Capture the Flag field. "Where should I start? What do you want to know, Loreseeker Maea?"

A long, slow intake of breath. The feeling of his fingers encasing hers, the gentle squeeze, the warmth in his voice. In his gaze. Maea closed her eyes and savored the moment, allowed it to light up the dark landscapes of her soul. It was true, she realized. She was home. Not lost anymore, not cast out on her own, left to fend for herself in a place she didn't know. This was the Hollowed Grounds. The Fields, where she had walked and danced, played and toiled from her very first breath. And this was her friend. One of her first, a kind man who reminded her a little of her brother. A mentor, a leader, someone she could trust in and rely on.

It was a good place to be. A good point to start from. Opening her eyes she returned his smile and felt the joy surge again, a feeling like sunlight and laughter and sweet, crisp apple cider on the tongue. If they hadn't been standing amidst the ruins of a festival she might have laughed aloud, but it didn't seem entirely appropriate. So Maea held herself back, and merely considered the question as she followed him towards the stone, fingers picking at the strands of tall grass where she passed. There was so much she wanted to know. So much, all of it, everything! But she had no point of reference. She wanted to know about Sam, about the Voice, about all the new names and what the guild had been up to since... gods, was it really a whole year? It didn't make sense, didn't feel right somehow. How could so much happen in just a few days...

Looking at Jigano, she took in the night around them. The darkness, the shadows, the sliver of moon weaving silver into his hair and clothes, playing with the curious glow of the lantern he carried. There was something she wanted to tell him, something about a dream she'd had that didn't fit with the rest. A secret she had to share... but it might hurt him to hear about it, so she put it up for later.

Just let us enjoy the peace for a little longer.

"What are you doing out here?" was all she could think to ask. "Everyone else has gone home, yet you linger. Why?"

He hadn't realized how little joy there had been in the Hollowed Grounds since the festival until he saw it lighting up Maea's eyes - healed eyes, eyes that had once been cloudy and dim, but were no longer. His own widened in surprise as he looked down at her. "Maea... you can see now?" he asked, hoping against hope that there had been some miracle in the midst of all this loss and madness.

Her own question was of a smaller scope than he would have expected, and far more personal. His smile faded a little as he drew a breath and lifted the lantern, looking at the light within and then through it to the fields beyond. "Ah. Well. One of those things that have changed, I suppose... I've become something of a soul shepherd for Ludo, helping it collect those wandering spirits that have become lost or captured away from its call. Or those that refuse to follow, for whatever reasons. Given how many died here recently... it seemed prudent to be proactive and gather those who are ready to move on, within the lantern Ludo made for me." He smile wanly, turning his attention back to Maea and wondering what she would think of the news.

The temerity, some might say. Not likely her, he knew, but others... others might. He'd only ever heard the title used as an epithet from the lips of others, after all.

A question was shot back, one that made her blink. Had she not told him? She was sure she had been meaning to, had been eager to share the miracle once it happened. But... perhaps it was one of those things that had been overlooked.

"Yes, I can," she smiled. "I made a bargain with Ludo. They would heal my eyes, and in return I would invite them to the Fiat Lux. It's why it was there." To her, it was a short while ago. Back then, she had made quiet plans to extend the invitation again for the following year, just to see if the dark Herald would come even without a bargain. Spend time with her, just for fun. She had certainly enjoyed herself in its company. But seeing what had happened now... perhaps it was for the better that she hadn't. While Ludo's presence at the festival might have prevented much damage, its absence also meant it couldn't be blamed for the disaster. Maea hoped so, at least.

She conveniently left out that something else had withered in place of her eyes. It was unimportant, something she didn't care about, and certainly far less interesting than what Jigano told her about. The honor he had been bestowed. It was how she saw it; an honor, beyond anything she would have dared ask for. If there was a thorn of jealousy somewhere - that someone had received such attention from her favorite deity - she plucked it swiftly and swaddled the small hurt in the ribbons of that joy.

It was so very easy to forgive tonight, and Maea savored every second of it.

"That's amazing" she breathed, watching the lantern with renewed interest. "That's what the song was about? It was beautiful, but also... a bit eerie. It tugged on something inside me." Made her think of family, of home. Her brother smiling, the scent of her mother's perfume lingering in a rarely-opened closet. Warm things, painful things, memories half forgotten.

Again, she thought of the secret she had. It bothered her, begged for attention. She sighed.

"Jigano... I need to tell you something. But I don't think you will like it. I don't know... if it's been a year, I can't say if it's important anymore. But... Do you want it now, or some other time?"