KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
For a while, it seemed as though he wouldn't stop. The pressure of the arm on her throat just increased, his face controrted from pain and straiin and something awful, a grim determination that had no place here.
But then, clarity returned to his gaze. Whether it was the surrender or the healing magic, or if her words actually managed to reach him was impossible to say. One moment he looked completely gone, lost in some place that was far away from the here and now; the next, he blinked and stared down at her, and his own arm, and horror replaced that cold blackness.
In an instant, Korbin let go and rolled off her. Sat up, looked around as if he barely recognized the place... and buried his face in trembling hands, chest heaving as though he'd been running for hours.
"I'm sorry," he said, hoarse and muffled. "Gods, Weaver I... I'm so sorry!"
He couldn't hear, yet still there was a ringing in his ears. And still the image haunted his inner vision, of the figure lying crumpled in the snow. Still, silent... dead.
But then, clarity returned to his gaze. Whether it was the surrender or the healing magic, or if her words actually managed to reach him was impossible to say. One moment he looked completely gone, lost in some place that was far away from the here and now; the next, he blinked and stared down at her, and his own arm, and horror replaced that cold blackness.
In an instant, Korbin let go and rolled off her. Sat up, looked around as if he barely recognized the place... and buried his face in trembling hands, chest heaving as though he'd been running for hours.
"I'm sorry," he said, hoarse and muffled. "Gods, Weaver I... I'm so sorry!"
He couldn't hear, yet still there was a ringing in his ears. And still the image haunted his inner vision, of the figure lying crumpled in the snow. Still, silent... dead.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
