Page 145 of The Cruel Dawn
Stay like the stone,
So that you may say, This void gives us a home to
Cultivate sands and souls.
Beloved of Aetherium, Vallendor,
Vallendor, twilight kissed.
Great waters flood your softer soils
And vines flood your softer soils.
I blessed you with steel to mute their strengths.
Direct your hand to find your way.
Direct your gaze to find your way, that you will
Blow like the wind.
That you may know, This bounty will meet our needs and
Sustain our lives here.
Cherished of Aetherium, my Vallendor,
My Vallendor, Verdant Realm.
Beauty thrives as you fall and scar.
I blessed you with dawn to bring you hope.
Find strength in darkness to keep your light.
Find strength in shadow to keep your light, that you may be
The path for others.
That you may say, Let us take flight to these
Endless skies.
–A Love Song from the Lady of the Verdant Realm to her Beloved Vallendor
36
My eyes creak open like a rusty iron door. The world is a blur, and shapes bleed one into another. As the haze begins to clear, tall beings made of light drift over me. Their hands dance over my body and their fingers trace invisible lines in the air. They never speak, but movements vibrate through this space to become low, constant hums.
I don’t understand all that’s happening to me. Who are they? Are they a threat?
Then I see Agon the Kindness pacing in front of a window, his hands clasped behind his back. His red robes rustle softly with each step.
And I see the Fynals, Elyn and Sybel, standing at the foot of my bed behind the healers. They both wear gray suede tunics and breeches, their hands clasped together tightly in one large fist. Elyn’s brow furrows as her eyes dart between the healers and me. Sybel gazes steadily at me, but her lips are trembling.
Are we together in Execration? Are we in After-Anathema?
I blink and try to focus, to make sense of my surroundings, but pain and anxiety tighten like a vise around my body. This space is too small, too much. The chaise at my side is too close. The pillows beneath my head are too soft. Everything around me, too still. My thoughts, too fragile. This bedroom looks like my bedroom in the abbey, but is that how Execration looks for everyone?
