The world Linarra stepped into past the gate was paradise. For a moment, she thought perhaps she'd died and this was the embrace of the Mother. There was a cobblestone paved road lined by fruit trees, every branch laden with fruit of all kinds, some she'd never even seen before. Struck mute with wonder, she spun in a half circle. Everywhere her gaze fell was life and beauty. The road was lined with statues of Elves, tall and regal and beautiful. The air was warm and fragrant with flowers and green things and the scent of light rain somewhere.
Her eyes filled with tears. Outside the Temple, the world had fallen to disease and ruin, the fields barren, people starving, the Brotherhood terrorizing the countryside. Here it felt like she was on a completely different planet all together.
Sahimul eyed her curiously. "What's gotten into you?"
"It's...it's just so different. It's perfect here. I don't understand." This time, it wasn't just overwhelmed tears, but angry tears. Why? What had happened? It was clear the Elves were hiding from the rest of the world, but why?
Sahimul just looked confused. "The rest of the world isn't like this then?"
She shook her head. "No. It's dying. Nothing grows in the soil. People are starving. There's plague and war."
His expression darkened with her words. "That's not how it was when I was sealed away. Something has changed."
Frustrated, angry, she gestured at him. The Scripture blamed him for all of it. Before he would return to destroy the world, plagues and famines and fires would ravage the land. And hadn't it happened? Just as scripture said?
The Usurper advanced on her, snagging her by the shoulder, yanking her towards him. He was so strong it took her breath away. She felt afraid, trembling under his iron grip.
"Don't you dare, Little Priestess," he hissed. "Don't you blame me for this. I was powerless in that stone. How could I have done all that?"
She tried very hard to be brave. Linarra had never felt brave in her entire life. She hid from everything when she could. Usually, things just -happened- to her. She had no agency, no say. No choice. She took a deep breath and met his fiery gaze. She tried to make herself like the Prophet. Strong and resolute.
"Scripture said it would be through plague and famine and fire, the heralds of your return. Why should I think any differently if that's precisely what happened?"
He gave her a dark smile, his face so close to hers. "If I'm so horrible...why won't the Mother destroy me? Hmm? Ever ask yourself that? Where is SHE?" he howled at her. "WHERE?!"
Linarra flinched, but held her head high. Until she felt how he felt. Grief. He was so sad. Lost. He wasn't lying. The anger was just grief. She couldn't reply. She didn't know what to say.
He had his hands curled around her forearms and every word he spoke he gave her a little shake. His grip was firm, but not bruising. "I tried everything," he said, no longer shouting. "I tried to anger Her. I blasphemed. I destroyed things. I begged. I bowed. I wept." His eyes filled with tears and for some reason, it was the tears that broke her down, killed her resolve.
"Linarra," he said, and she shivered when he said her name. "Something happened, long ago. The Mother is dead. Gone. She no longer exists."
It felt like he'd punched her. All the breath left her body. She felt dizzy. "No," she murmured.
"Yes," he insisted. "I would know, wouldn't I? And where are the other Aspects? I don't FEEL them anymore!"
It gutted her. Broke her down. Maybe he was right. She felt a teeny little spark sometimes. But nothing concrete. Nothing like Ishahn's book said it would be like. No healing. No miracles. No magic. Linarra crumpled, her legs giving out from under her. She cried.
Sahimul held her. Shushed her, petting her hair. "We're alone in this. We won't find any safe harbor with the Elves. I half suspect they've something to do with all of this. But they have something I want. I intend on getting it."
She let him hold her, hold her up. Comfort her. I can tell him anything, she realized. The Usurper understood, somehow. If she were being tricked and this was all a lie, fine, she thought. Linarra was too exhausted to do anythign about it. Why such a colossal effort for her soul? It seemed silly.
She heard birdsong and felt the warm breeze. It broke her heart further. It was all so much bigger than her. Couldn't they stay here? Just hide. Forever. "I'm tired," she told him, unable to explain anymore. She didn't have the words.
He rumbled a comforting noise and picked up her as though she weighed nothing at all. Just like Veshier had done. She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I'll carry you, but we shouldn't linger here. I'm sure they know I've broken their stupid gate."
She felt strangely apathetic. Let them come. Kill her. What did it matter? Linarra knew she was on borrowed time as it was. The Temple, High Priestess Liriel and her soldiers would come for her. Soon. In a week or less.
He walked, carrying her. He went into the trees, into the forest. It would be, he explained, harder to track them. Sahimul would walk them deep into the enchanted wood, to a place only he knew about.
It was nice, being carried, held gently as the Usurper chattered along, his tone no longer grief stricken or angry. He certainly liked talking. But she liked listening.
"Ishahn and I traveled through here," he told her. "And if memory serves, and how could it not, there is a cave near the hills. We stayed there. And if what I'm looking for is anywhere? It's there. I know she would have kept it there."
She had no idea what item he was talking about. She'd tried asking, but as per usual, he was evasive. It annoyed her. Why couldn't he just say the whole thing. Why the secrecy?
"You can tell me, you know. Whatever it is. I don't know why you don't," she finally groused, looking up at him.
"I suppose I -could- but that would ruin the surprise."
Linarra huffed out a big sigh. "I'm not sure why I need a surprise! Honestly, I'm not sure I even like surprises."
He smirked, clearly satisfied with himself. "You'll like this one. It's a gift, you silly girl. Who doesn't like gifts?"
"It's not that I don't appreciate--"
He snorted. "You don't. You're very ungrateful in general."
Linarra gave him a flat look. She'd have protested more, but he could drop her if he wanted to. "I am not. You can't expect me to trust you instantly. Trust is earned. And you've the worst reputation. What if your 'gift' is just...I don't know. A pit of vipers."
Sahimul laughed and set her on her feet. "We should stop. So you can eat something. Mortals are so fragile. It's very annoying." He pointed to a large, flat rock. "You sit there. I'll find you something."
Linarra watched him leave, headed off into the forest. She felt dazed. Numb. Without meaning to, she wondered where Veshier was. She sat in a sun dappled, verdant forest surrounded by the bounty of nature, and she knew what he faced. The desolation. They'd both been in bad shape. What if he died?
He was strong, sure. Stronger than her by far, but he wasn't an invicible demi god. He was merely a man. How would he 'see' without her to guide him? Linarra didn't blame him for any of this. It was her fault alone. Regardless of what the truth really was. Veshier was a man of faith and conviction. He was -good-.
Would she even know if he died? Probably not. She'd never see him again.
Her head sunk into her hands. She couldn't make this right. Something in her fundamentally made all things worse. She thought of her 'power'. Emory, lifeless but moving. They'd had to take an axe to him. Where did that power come from? Was she just born wicked? An abomination?
She got herself together before Sahimul returned. He didn't look as chipper as when he'd set out. Unceremoniously, he dumped an armful of fruit he'd picked from the trees at the base of the rock she sat on. He glowered at her.
"What?" she asked, shifting uncomfortably.
"Forget about him," Sahimul told her.
"It's not that easy!" she protested. "You wouldn't understand anyway!"
He scoffed, sitting on the ground, cross-legged in front of the bounty of fruit. "Why wouldn't I?"
Linarra looked away. She didn't want to talk about this with him. "You've never been in love."
He pegged her with an apple. Right in the shoulder.
"Ow! Why'd you do that!"
"I'm the Aspect of Love, you idiot! Of course I've been in love. I was in love with your Prophet," he spat. "Not that it matters. Not that it mattered to -her-. She still betrayed me."
The Temptation of Ishahn was...the Usurper's love for her. Linarra felt all her indignation drain away. He loved her. She believed him. She felt it. "I...I'm sorry," she said, feeling stupid.
He shrugged. "Yes, well. Not my finest moment. I made a lot of mistakes." His expression darkened and he looked away. "So when I say forget about him, I know what I'm talking about. You don't even love him, not really. Not past that silly, young love nonsense. He didn't act as though he loved you. He wouldn't even listen."
It stung. As it always did. "Yeah, I know," she said. "But you can love someone and they not return it. They're not obligated to."
"Of course not. But it's a -bad- investment of your feelings, don't you think? Why do you love him? Because he's handsome?" Sahimul snorted. "Because the bond made you? Terrible reasons, honestly."
He was right, of course. Which annoyed her. Couldn't she just have her sadness, as petty and small as it was?
"You should find someone worthy of your affections," he told her.
She rolled her eyes, finally sliding off the rock to sit next to him, snagging a pear. "Oh? Like who?"
He watched her eat, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Me," he said.
Linarra very nearly choked on her fruit. She sputtered. "What? Why? Get myself in the same situation all over again? We're not...we're not even the same things! I'm human and you're...well you're not."
He pillowed his chin on his palm, elbow on his knee. "And?"
"And it's stupid! We're being chased. We don't belong here. Everyone wants to kill us. You don't even like me."
He wagged his finger at her. "I do indeed like you. Very much. Why wouldn't I?"
She glowered at him. "You said I was plain."
"So? You have your charms. Not my fault if you can't see them." Once again, he looked smug. Like he knew something she didn't.
"And just what are those charms? Exactly?" She wasn't fishing for compliments, she was genuinely curious.
Sahimul leaned back against a rock. "You have very lovely eyes. You are genuinely a good person, if a little mopey. You look truly lovely with your hair down. The braid is too severe, but I realize that practicality and all dictates you braid it. It's soft also. You're hair. You're soft in general. Which I like. Should I continue? You're a good kisser, though I think you could use more practice. I'm more than happy to offer my tutelage."
She thought it would feel nice to hear those things, but it didn't. She felt made fun of. Teased. Lied to. In a moment, he'd laugh and say he was joking and that she was a slug. It hurt. She hated that it hurt.
The Usurper ignored her souring mood. "I'd like some compliments, honestly. I've been insulted quite a lot the past few days. By you, mostly."
She wanted to throw things at him now. But she indulged him. It felt better than focusing on her anyway. "You've a nice face," she muttered.
He laughed. "That's it? My face is nice!"
"I wasn't done!" she protested. "You're...witty. I suppose. Though a little mean. Your eyes...scare me a little, but they're pretty. Like rubies that are on fire."
He seemed appeased by that. He nodded even. "And my kissing? How does it measure up?"
She wished he'd stop mentioning it. "It's fine," she groused.
"Just fine," he said flatly.
She wiped the pear juice from her chin with her sleeve. The whole conversation was absurd. "We can't do this, Sahimul. We can't be lovers. I'll never know how I feel about you. If it's just our bond. You'll never know either."
"Have it your way," he said sourly. "I just don't see the point in fighting the inevitable. I want to sleep with you. I know you very much would like to sleep with me. So?"
"So?! The Temple will kill me. Banish you. Or you'll destroy them. Where do we go? Where? You don't -love- me. I don't even know you. It's stupid. A terrible idea." She didn't tell him that she was tempted. Or that she thought about it more frequently than she liked.
Did the Prophet, she wondered? Lay with him? She wanted to ask very badly, but was so afraid of the answer. What if she had? Would that change how she felt about Ishahn who she so admired?
In truth, she felt a little jealous. She'd been dead for over two thousand years. There wasn't anything to be jealous of. "Was she pretty?" she asked, her voice a little too loud, a little too strained.
"Was who pretty? Ishahn?" He waited for her to nod. "Of course she was. Beautiful. But aren't all women beautiful? Just...these beautiful creatures, so like the Mother."
His answer was nice, but it wasn't what she wanted.
"But you're asking if she were prettier than you," he supplied nastily.
Linarra looked away.
"It's a stupid question. You're different. The end. Stop comparing. She's been dead for a very long time."
"I know it's stupid," Linarra said. "Just as stupid as you telling me to forget about Veshier."
He fell silent. For once. She finished off her fruit and refused to look at them. They sat in bitter silence until the sun set.