DEIMOS
Oh, the Sword wished he was still immobile, unattainable, unreachable, impossible to scale, improbable to maim, rip, or tear apart, nonchalant, cold, and apathetic to the core. But he wasn’t, and everything still bled and slashed, tore right through his heart and soul. The mask now was frayed at best, remaining a tower because he couldn’t do much else – not in the wake of his grief, or Chulane’s. That Auni wasn’t here pierced at him too. He hadn’t gone to Kiada’s home first, bypassing it with a look of immense torture and pain, before heading towards the portal. He hadn’t thought to pause there to glance around for the luxere, or to bombard his way into the structure, as they’d so often did with one another.
And now she wouldn’t again.
He swallowed down the tears threatening to snap back behind his eyes, a mighty, stoic breath intermingling – and he yearned to step out into the glacial expanse, to be liberated of anything but the startling, desolate exterior of the world around them. “I am sorry. I did not check there first.”
Hadn’t thought. Hadn’t done anything but move, to get away, away, away from the heartache and head straight into another one.
“Okay. We can go.” His eyes went to the unmoving Chulane, hand extended – the only strength he had left.
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving
