#beidomon

C’était ça. Das war’s. Iqet isain aso. This was it. At long last, she had found it. Well, found was a relative term. Does one find a metaphysical fraying in the fabric of the universe itself or simply detect it. This place was where the pattern was weakest. The new power source was clamouring for attention this close up, screaming as if a child wanting it’s mother to let it out to play. Fitting, somehow, that it should be here, in the Sharom. Let it out she would. This was her chance. Lews could deny her all he wished, but when this was done… She would be loved even more so than he, she would be revered. By all. That elusive third name would finally be granted to her, a symbol of her prestige upon first introduction.The days of him arriving at functions with her on his arm and later slipping away with that chit Ilyena would be long over, as would these of the opposite. The research he had been unable to quit with her could be more once again, more than a clandestine affair when he grew dissatisfied with Ilyena Moerelle Dalisar. No more of his denial of his continued infatuation with her. He would be hers again. The sooner the better, time to get this done. To open arms to a new age of power.

“Beidomon.” He rushed to her side after the utterance of his name, ready and willing to assist. Pathetic, truly.

Embracing the source, she saw him do the same. The two leaned into the familiarity of the One Power for what may well be the last time, drawing thick ropes of spirit to do the deed. Focusing on the True Source’s call, she accepted it, feeling Beidomon following suit. Twin weaves of saidin and saidar twined together, thickening before flattening in a flash that seemed to shake the magnificent building to its very core. Ignoring this, she kept channeling, the angreal tucked in her belt linking to its larger twin down far below and granting the blessing of continued power, keeping the flows growing and growing, and the rumbling to grow in congruence with it. She refocused on the call, emptying her mind of everything but it and her weaving, gently tying air and water into it as Beidomon did the same with fire and earth. Best to play to their strengths under such high stakes circumstances. She reached, and reality seemed to splinter. Shards of memory flashed before her eyes, nights with Lews assuring her of her value to him and the adjacent days of his constant neglect. Being used after their seperation, being ignored whenever Ilyena was present. Dread and anger and sickness and repulsion flooded her, but still she pressed on. Emotions were nothing but a hindrance to the goal, and could be dealt with when the straits weren’t quite so dire. The shards of existence seemed to rearrange themselves before her closed eyes, raising the question of how long had they been that way, how long since the horror of it all had forced the involuntarily attempt to shield herself from it.

This time, everything shattered. She was flung from the sky, barely catching herself in time. The pathetically weak flows of air righted her before she could hit the ground, and formed a protective dome woven with fire to defend against the debris raining down all around. It was horrifying in its splendour. The Sharom, split into thousands of pieces. The empty sky above Collam Daan, bare. Her, somehow still standing after all of the destruction.