#ilmaryne

 But no, she continued to sleep peacefully. If she wanted, she could probably have even slept through the abyssal damned thing tumbling off a cliff and smashing to pieces around them.

Her fingers brushed the peaceful face and threaded into the soft white hair that was already tumbling free of its braid.

Ilm had never learned to wake, paranoid in the night from the slightest creak. Once upon a time, she had hoped to keep it that way. The mark still burning under her sleeve, but thankfully hidden, showed how foolish that was. Now she’d have to be the one to teach her.

She looked away from her.

Through the crack in the curtains, she could see the endless expanse of white snow and ice of Glassfeld. It glittered under the sun, a dazzling but blinding display. Still, she couldn’t look away from it.

How many years had this lived outside their homes, and they’d never seen it? Trapped inside the crystalline walls of Dawvines? And this would be the last time she would see it.

“Mal?”

Ilm’s voice broke through her thoughts, and she turned back, soothing her hair. She sounded so small then.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Go back to sleep. We’ll be at the docks shortly, don’t worry.”

“Mal, I’m sorry.” Watering purple eyes stared up at her.

“I know. I know, dear.” She tucked her under her chin, and held her as she sobbed.

She’d made a name for herself in Dawvines. It had taken years to get to where she had been in her practice, and even more to earn the titles and respect for it. People came to her from across the shard for what she could do.

And now all of that was gone.

Maybe if she pulled back the curtain, she would still see the smoke rising in the city. 

Instead, she pulled her sister closer to her, and watched the same empty stretch of snow pass by, the last remains of her life packed into a trunk under her seat, and cradled in her lap.

If she could though, she would make the same choice.

Again.

And again.

And again.