Haze
Through the dim haze that was his constant companion since Jolene's death, he slowly became aware of her. She moved through the edges of his awareness, never coming too close but never fully vanishing either. Simply....there.
Her face was always a mystery; the haze wouldn't allow him to hold onto a clear picture of her. Little details, nothing more. A green eye here, an auburn braid there. A smile, a gentle touch. In his foggy state he simply came to believe that she was an angel, though he couldn't understand what an angel would want with him.
On occasion, he would recall a name. Selynia. Other times, vague snippets of conversation. Some days, he awoke to her gentle hands tracing the scars on his back, his arms, his chest. Other days he would swear that he'd dreamed her completely.
The one thing he didn't understand was why she had chosen him. He was convinced she was an angel, and he'd done nothing to deserve her. Yet she'd chosen him, saved him, all the same. No matter what the haze took from him, he recalled their first meeting clearly.
The morning was bright, clear and cold, as his finished the grueling climb to the top of the cliff. Spirit's Bluff, the locals had called it; a place haunted by the restless spirits of those who'd flung themselves from the top into the waters below. In his sadness, Radames had every intention of joining them.
He rested a moment after finishing the climb, then began to inch slowly towards the edge of the cliff. It was a good drop, straight down several hundred feet and into the churning whirlpool below where bodies would smash against unseen rocks. If they were lucky enough to survive the fall and avoid the rocks, they would drown long before they were able to struggle to the surface of the pool. It was a perfect place to end it all, because once someone jumped, there was no going back.
Standing on the edge for a few moments, gazing into the pool, he had a brief moment of hesitation. It was brief, though; he could think of no one he was hurting by jumping. No one cared enough about him to grieve his death. The thought resolved him, and he lifted a foot, ready to step over the edge.
“No!” He heard the woman's cry a split-second before a hand yanked him away from the edge. He tried to jerk away, and they both stumbled to the ground. He was up in an instant, ready to try his leap again, and she grabbed his ankle. “Don't do this. It isn't worth it.”
He turned to her then. Her slender face was pale, her wide green eyes frantic as she scrambled to her feet and moved around behind him to stand between him and the empty air.
He spun. He couldn't stand having people at his back. “I've made up my mind, and nothing you say can change it.”
She shook her head, reaching out to cup his cheek. He instinctively flinched away, and her hand dropped. “So young. What could possibly have driven you to the edge?”
“I'm older than you think.” His voice was defensive; this woman looked no older than him, and it wasn't his fault that elves aged slowly. He felt older than his six decades, that was certain.
“You are young for one of our race.” She smiled then, and he felt a faint fluttering of hope in his chest.
He pushed it away angrily. “Why do you care if I die? You don't know me. You don't want to.”
Her smile faded. “Surely there is someone you would hurt by doing this.” “I have no one.” He glanced away. “No one would mourn me. No one would care. No one would even know.”
“I would know.” She touched his cheek gingerly, and this time, he didn't pull back. “I would care. Isn't that enough?”
He shook his head. “I have nothing left. No one to mourn me, no reason to try anymore.”
Her hand dropped to find his. “Come with me. Let me change your mind. Let me show you that even one person cares about you.”
He never questioned his decision to follow her back to her home. He never understood what prompted him to do it, but he never questioned it. He lived with his angel for three years before he realized she was mortal. An elf, like him, but mortal. She provided him with the tools and the encouragement, and he spent his days building a new house, never questioning that he would be living in it with her. He just accepted her presence and her role in his life.
And one day he woke up from the haze and realized that he loved her. She'd given him a reason to live, and in return, he'd trusted her with his heart. She'd guided him from the sadness that threatened to overwhelm him, and he'd repaid her kindness and care with the most precious and intimate thing he could give someone: himself.
He told her everything about his past: how he'd been conscripted into the assassin's life, how his relationship with his father spiraled from warm and loving to cold and abusive, his sister's sacrifice. She never judged, only listened. Within three years, they were engaged. Another year passed and she was pregnant with his child, and he spent his days preparing for its arrival.
Six months later, he was burying her along with their unborn baby. She'd died in his arms, murdered for no reason. This time, he kept the haze at bay, refused to succumb to it. He'd made a promise to her as she died that he would live for them both. He intended to keep that promise.
But no matter how he tried, he couldn't outrun the sadness forever, and it was in the grip of the haze that Ryenna found him, half-starved, on the borders of her forest.
