#tyriaslibrary

Tomomi tilted his head when Canach just stared at him and rolled his eyes, a quiet giggle leaving his lips as he walked forward towards the desk, “a ‘hello, my dear lovely husband’ or a ‘I have missed you oh so dearly in our time apart’ would have done just fine” he teased as the other laughed snapping out of his trance on the elementalist. 

“All true words, not that I would admit them in front of you” he smirked, pushing the paperwork aside knowing that he would get murdered for not finishing them but in that moment he didn’t even care anymore. “How did you find me?” he asked curiously, he went to stand up but was interrupted by the purple sylvari simply hopping onto his desk and swinging his legs over so he was sat facing him, leaning down to steal a kiss before he sighed, stretching up. 

Tomomi seemed to stretch to attempt to relieve the stress of the day, “Surprisingly, Ashal’s new boyfriend seems to want to get on my good side and managed to get me transport to Cantha. So, here I am. I’m here on ‘official guild business’” 

Canach hummed in response, smiling at his lover. “I am glad you’re here, look, my love, I am a billionaire now.” he snorted, he knew Tomomi would love him either way. They had been through the worst of times together, he at least hoped he could give him some better times now. But he was concerned on why Tomomi was with them, he had found a peaceful place to live in Vabbi, he had been happy. Why did he leave? He knew it was partly because Canach had left but Tomomi had sacrificed so much for him, he had promised he’d go back home after Cantha - another promise broken. “I’m sorry. I know you were happy there.” 

“Yes, I was. But I am happier when you are with me” The elementalist smiled sadly, he had been happy - for a time. Vabbi had been home. After Jormag he struggled with colder temperatures and while the desert night air had been a struggle, he had gotten used to it. “I was not truly living. I was waiting, waiting for you to come home, waiting for letters from Ashal, waiting to prove myself again - to prove that I am not the monster Jormag made me.” the phantom pain in not only his missing leg but also now the eye that the scion of Jormag had ripped from his skull seemed to ache again as he closed his eyes. He could still hear their voices, tormenting him. 

He gasped when Canach placed his hand on his cheek, “you are safe. I am truly only living in the moments when we are together. The rest is just existing, waiting, until I am able to see you again. See the way you look at me. You are my husband, Tomomi. You are not a monster” 

Leaning against the others hand, he pressed a kiss against his palm. “I am yours and that is truly enough for me. Promise me this will be it?” he looked at him again, he was tired of the fighting - tired of moving, tired of running. He wanted to settle down and he’d had that for a short while in Vabbi. Canach felt guilty for making him move again. But they would be stable here, the commander had others to help her. He can finally give Tomomi the peace he wanted. 

“The cost to kill the dragon was higher than any of us expected,” Ridhais says softly.

Oksuré nods quietly. “So… what of your Wyld Hunt? Are you… “

Ridhais grimaces. “Well, actually… I was wrong. My Hunt hasn’t finished.”

Oksuré blinks. She can’t possibly think Trahearne is still alive… she doesn’t know - hadn’t seen… she blinks away sudden tears again and takes a breath. But she can’t quell the sudden, desperate hope that Ridhais might be on to something. After all, if her Hunt hadn’t ended… “You think he might - “

But Ridhais is already shaking her head. “No. Remember, I Dreamed of Caladbolg. I heard it was broken… I think I’m supposed to heal it. I trust you brought the sword out of Maguuma?”

“Yes, of course… but it doesn’t look very healable.”

Ridhais nods seriously. "The Pale Tree's thorn may be broken, but I believe its spirit is not that easily slain. May I see it?"

Oksuré draws the broken shard of Caladbolg out of her pack. It is not all wilty-looking, as one would expect from a dead, planty sword, but still lush and green. The glow Oksuré is accustomed to seeing around it when in Trahearne's care is missing, and the plant matter decorating the flat of the blade, while not wilted, is limp and no longer twined tightly around it.

The shattered thorn brings back the harsh memory of Trahearne's last moments, and suddenly her heart is pounding again and her breathing is shallow. Oksuré takes a deep breath and tries to focus.

…Mordremoth had stolen even Trahearne last words from him. The world is cold and hard already without Trahearne… this is just one more on top of everything else (Trahearne is no longer here. dead. gone) but Oksuré feels like weeping.

"I can tell if it can be healed, Commander," Ridhais tells her. "May I hold it?"

Oksuré nods numbly and hands it over. She watches Ridhais examine it, but her heart isn’t in it. She isn't exactly sure if she wants to heal Caladbolg - what would become of it then? Would the Pale Tree give it to somebody else, like Caithe? Oksuré doesn’t know if she would be able to stand seeing the blade in use by somebody else… it is Trahearne's weapon, and it just wouldn't be right.

At the same time, Oksuré knows she can't just keep such a powerful relic of the sylvari, and she couldn't possibly stand in the way of anybody's Wyld Hunt.

After a long pause, Ridhais hands the blade back to Oksuré. "Though it is wounded, life remains, thank the Pale Tree. Caladbolg is dormant now, like a seed in the winter, waiting the coming of spring."

Oksuré takes it and nods slowly. This blade had had the power to kill an Elder Dragon, even in this condition. Whole… no wonder it was capable of being the focus to cleansing Orr. Truly a powerful weapon.

"How can it be healed?"

"Two tasks are necessary," Ridhais instructs. "We must gather as many fragments of Caladbolg's blade as possible, along with sources of power to bolster its energy. Additionally, a new wielder must be bonded to the weapon."

"A new wielder?" Oksuré asks, curious. "Why? I don't think what’s-his name, Waine, 'bonded' it - he wasn't even a sylvari - and I can't imagine somebody like him bonding Caladbolg, anyway."

Ridhais shrugs. "Waine doesn't matter - I do know that nobody suspected his weapon as being the source of his victories in the fighting pit. A sorry state indeed for the focus that cleansed Orr - if it were properly used, Caladbolg would have been found much sooner, just thanks to the power it advertises."

Oksuré remembers something. "Trahearne also said it was the only thing that could save him. I didn't know, then, what he meant, but…" Ridhais' eyes widen. "Caladbolg defeated an Elder Dragon… like this?" she whispers.

Oksuré nods. "I'd never appreciated how powerful it was. It would have had to nullify every last shred of corruption in Trahearne, or I am half-convinced Mordremoth would have simply risen again."

Ridhais nods. "Perhaps you are right. Well, we should start the healing process. Caladbolg has been instrumental in the defeat of two Elder Dragons, I don't think we'll get away with trying another without it."

"Two?" Oksuré queries, frowning.

"Oh, yes," Ridhais says, nodding quickly. "Elder Dragons eat magic, and the Artesian Waters is the most magically powerful place in… well, most anywhere, I think, and certainly in Orr. Caladbolg's magic is the Pale Tree's magic, which we now know to be purified dragon energies from Mordremoth. I don't think Zhaitan would have taken kindly to its main food source being poisoned by another dragon’s magic - it probably was extremely sick by the time the airships confronted it."

"I never thought of that," Oksuré notes in awe. "Maybe it can cleanse the Brand or something." Then she frowns. “I don’t suppose Orr was just… corrupted anew by Mordremoth when Trahearne did that?”

Ridhais is already shaking her head. “No, Caladbolg draws its magic from the Pale Tree. Its magic is no more corrupted than the sylvari are. Yes, it’s Mordremoth’s domain of magic, but it doesn’t carry Mordremoth’s corruption.”

Oksuré nods. “That’s good.” She frowns slightly at the shard of Caladbolg in her hand, not sure why Ridhais had given it back, then glances back at the sylvari. “What’s the first step? Is there anything I can do to help?” She doesn’t have anything else to do. And…. she doesn’t want to relinquish the last part of Trahearne she still has.

Ridhais nods. “Yes. The first step is to find the other pieces of Caladbolg. I have one piece - it led me to you, or rather, the fragment you possess. Take it, and the two together will lead you to others.” Oksuré nods slowly. "Alright. What else do I have to do?"

"You'll need spiritwood scion, a vision crystal, and an orb of natural essence," Ridhais tells her. "I have a vision crystal, and scion of spiritwood is naturally attracted to Caladbolg. I have a list of places where I can obtain the natural essence we need. I believe you are more experienced and equipped to brave the jungle, so you can do that and I will seek out these places of power. Send me a message when you’re on your way back, and I’ll meet you here."

“Well, we can’t just leave her over there,” Bato said. “Why not just run over and drag her away from the mushrooms?”

“Oh, what a great idea! Then we’ll have three grown women blubbering like idiots. No, I’ve got a plan.” Gheli held up her tools so Bato could see her work. “I’m working on reconfiguring my aquabreather to filter out toxins in the air instead of converting water to oxygen. It should counteract the spores and keep me from getting…whatever Feyn’s going through.”

Feyn’s uncontrollable giggle fit echoed throughout the cavern. “Faren, wait! You – hee hee – you forgot your pants!”

Bato nodded slowly. “But you said these mushrooms aren’t from Tyria.”

“Uh-huh. Completely unknown organisms! Would be fascinating, if it weren’t for present circumstances.”

“So you don’t know anything about them.”

“Yes, and thanks for stating the obvious?”

“So you won’t know if it works until you test it. On yourself. In the field of spores.”

“…you really know how to take the wind out of a girl’s sails, don’t you?”

*~*

In the space between two asura gates, do you cease to exist?

Feyn giggled as she sprinted around the cave. What a silly question for the mushroom to ask. She had travelled through plenty of asura gates, and here she was safe and sound. Silly Mr. Mushroom!

Is the "you" who returned from the dead the same as the "you" who died?

“That’s the same thing but different words,” Feyn mumbled as she climbed the side of one of Mr. Mushroom’s friends. The tops of their heads looked terribly bouncy, and she was dying to see how high she could go.

Can Palawa Joko Awaken himself?

Feyn fell flat on her back but burst out laughing. Now THAT was just a ridiculous notion; Joko was dead, he couldn’t possibly Awaken himself! What a silly, silly mushroom.

Are they truly your friends, or do they follow you out of obligation?

Well, that question was decidedly less silly. Her giggling died down as she noticed the rest of Destiny’s Edge were not running around and jumping and laughing anymore.

Does everyone in the Pact really believe in you? How could you ever be sure?

She stood up as they closed in on her. Was it just her imagination, or were thew growing bigger? And taking out their weapons? “Stop, please,” she asked Mr. Mushroom, but he didn’t listen.

After what he has said and done, can you really trust Braham? Can you trust Caithe? Can you trust any of them?

How can you be sure Aurene won’t end up like her grandfather?

Will all this fighting ever really end? Or will you die first, never knowing if your work meant anything?

“Stop it.” Feyn took a step back, again and again, trying to get away from these devils that wore the faces of her friends. She felt her back meet the cave wall and took out her dagger. “Stop it!” She swung once, twice, again and again to keep them at bay. Her blade met armor and flesh countless times as she flailed but her attackers continued on relentlessly. “STOP IT! LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE ME ALONE LEAVE ME ALONE LEAVE ME ALO –”

A shadow grabbed her and for all she thrashed and flailed she couldn’t break free. She screamed at the top of her lungs for what seemed like hours until suddenly something shifted inside her head. She dared to open her eyes – the mushrooms were far away now, and the attacking shadows were gone. Looking up she saw Bato holding her with one arm and holding a comparatively tiny aquabreather to her snout with the other. Below, Gheli cautiously stepped forward, her face a combination of concerned and terrified.

“Feyn? Are – are the spores wearing off? How many fingers am I holding up? Name all of Ventari’s–”

“I’m alright,” Feyn said abruptly, wriggling out of Bato’s grip. She cautiously scanned the cave around them. “They’re gone. It was just – I’m fine.”

“You were…prancing around over there by the mushrooms,” Bato explained calmly. “Then you just started yelling and throwing your weapon around. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine –” The sylvari spat out before taking a quick breath. “Taimi and Blish need more data from these rifts. We need to keep moving.”

There’s a burning in her back, a searing down her spine. She opens her eyes. Around her, the cage of vines pulses and thrums, the air humid and thick like a blanket. She gasps, but it’s like trying to breathe in honey. The pain is worse, now, as if great chunks of her flesh are being cut away bit by bit. She howls, hot hot hot tears streaking down her cheeks and her nails sinking into her naked skin.

Something bursts forth from her back. Great teeth, sharp and cruel and somehow, somehow, ravenous envelop her.

And she hears the dragon laugh.

—

Fina wakes up drenched in sweat and trembling like a leaf. Still caught up in the throes of panic, she grasps blindly at her back, fumbling for the wings she’s sure she’s lost control of and that she’s sure have finally burst free to truly begin her transformation—

But there’s nothing there, and she collapses back to the mattress in relief. Her breath bubbles out in a pitchy laugh that peters out into a sigh. She stares up at the ceiling, tracing the leaves’ veins and listening to Trahearne’s soft, steady breathing. Oh! That thought jolts her back up. She looks across the room and sees him still buried beneath a pile of blankets. Thank the Blessed Mother, she hadn’t woken him with her nightmare.

(It still stirs something sour in her heart every time she invokes the Pale Tree’s name without thinking.)

She knows that, now that she’s awake and alert, she won’t be able to fall asleep again. So, she resigns herself to it, decides to go about her morning errands before Trahearne wakes up. A note on top of her rumpled bed sheets—”Out to market, will be home soon!”—a fresh change of clothes, her heavy winter cloak draped over her shoulders, and she’s outside.

Caledon Forest, while being far more temperate than other parts of the Maguuma Jungle, still hardly has what anyone would call a proper winter. Even so, the early morning breeze is sharp and cold and nips at Fina’s heels. She quickens her pace, intent on reaching Mabon Market and returning home before Trahearne has to read her note. This, the walk to the market, is probably her least favorite part of running errands. To be alone with her thoughts, alone with the steady hum of dragon magic heavy in her chest…

She greets the local artisans with a cheery smile. They return it with greetings of their own, the calls of, “Commander Fina!” marking the real start to her morning. As always, she’s swarmed by curious saplings and reverent locals who ask questions and offer her goods and beg for her to stay just a little longer! And she, as always, laughs and shakes her head and says that she needs to be home in time to make breakfast. By the time she manages to leave, her arms are laden with food. There’s some sort of berry pastry held between her teeth—a gift from Myrtle, who had insisted that Fina try her new recipe. Somewhere in her baskets is a scrap of parchment with that same recipe scribbled down. Hardly legible, she’d observed as it was written, and it would be a miracle if she managed to be able to read it if she ever wanted to try to bake it herself.

She knows that she’ll definitely try to bake it someday.

Trahearne is awake when she gets home. He’s just entered the kitchen, wheelchair squeaking on the way (Fina notes that she’ll have to get oil for the wheels next time she’s in town). He looks up at her and smiles. Even the side of his face still weakened from Mordremoth’s corruption manages to scrunch up in that way that makes Fina’s gut all warm and fluttery.

“Good morning, dear heart,” he says.

“Good morning.” She sets the groceries down and strides across the kitchen to give him a peck on the cheek. He turns and tilts his head so that he can capture her lips in a short, sweet kiss. “I woke up early.”

“I can tell.” His eyes soften, and she knows what he’s thinking. Like always, he doesn’t comment on it. They both have their nightmares now, and speaking of them has done neither of them any good.

She draws back. “I’ll make breakfast. Your favorite.”

A thank you for not pushing further. He smiles again, concern still brewing behind his eyes, and nods. “Thank you, love.”

Ashal turns her head in concern and raises an eyebrow.

“That probably explains why that norn bartender laughed at me when I asked him for some.” Ashal says

Ever and Ashal smile at each other, Ever takes Ashals hand.

“It was nice, what you did for them today.” Ever says 

Ashal nods and unbuttons the rest of her jacket. Ashal places her mug down on the floor and reaches for the pips on her collar, she takes them off. She feels the weight of the pips.

“I had to.” Ashal says

She passes the pips to Ever, she takes them and looks at them. The pips are scratched and heavily dented, the edges are slightly rusted.

“I asked around, none of the Norn priest’s wanted to.” Ashal explains.

Ashal sighs as she picks her mug back up.

“Their excuses were all the same, Lisbet wasn’t worthy.” Ashal takes another sip from her mug “Not even Braham or Eir couldn’t convince any of them.” Ashal explains

Ashal looks up and sighs. Ever puts the pips on the sofa and takes Ashal’s hand.

“They’re pretty heavy,aren’t they?” Asks Ever

Ashal nods and looks up at Ever with a frown.

“I got a lot of flak for marrying those two.” Ashal sighs

Ashal begins to look exhausted, Ever looks at the pips carefully. Ever puts her mug down ,takes the pips , stands and walks over to a cabinet. She opens a cabinet which is filled with various artefacts, treasures and pictures of the guild. 

Ever puts the pips in the cabinet and takes out a glass box. Ever sits down and presents the glass box to Ashal. Ashal puts her mug down.

“Remember this?” Ask Ever

Ashal looks at the glass box, inside it is a worn patch, heavily discoloured and dirtied with threads coming out of it. Faded letters at the top read ‘Tales of Thedas’, Ashal looks at with a nostalgic smile.

“The first of five…” Ashal replies

Ever smiles, seeing the joy on Ashals face.

“If I remember your words exactly, nothing good is ever easy.” Ever says

Ashal opens the lid of the glass box, she touches the worn patch. It’s unexpectedly smooth and feels flimsy. Ashal moves hand to the patch on her left arm, which feels stiff and coarse.

“So it’s been that long.” Ashal whispers.

Ashal closes the lid on the box. She stands up and walks over to the cabinet, putting the glass box back into it. Ashal turns to Ever and puts her hands in her trousers pockets.

“You created the guild to give everyone an equal chance, I’d say you’ve done a pretty good job of doing that.” Ever remarks

Ashal looks around, she inspects the room. 

“Everyone looks at me for the solutions ” Ashal puts her hands in her pockets “I’m just not quite sure what to do sometimes I’m just...I’m just tired.” Ashal says rubbing her eyes

Ever smiles and points towards the bottom of the cabinet.

“Second to last shelf on the left.” Ever says with a calm demeanour.

Ashal looks confused as she kneels down to the bottom of the cabinet, she smiles and pulls out a large fluffy blanket and a couple of cushions. Ashal turns around to Ever, who has a book in hand. Ashal relaxes her shoulders and her smile widens.

“Ah you're like, the best wife.” Says Ashal in a tired tone.

Ever smiles and tilts her head a little.

“Well I hope there isn’t any competition.” Ever jokes

Ever pats on the empty space next to her. Ashal puts the blanket and pillows on the sofa, takes her jacket off and throws it over the back of it. She lays down, her head resting on Ever's lap.

“What book is it?” Asks Ashal

Ever looks at the cover of the book.

“Journey to the cove by lord Faren” replied Ever

Ashal rolls her eyes as Ever open the book. Ever pulls the blanket over Ashal and the two settle down as she begins to read the book out loud.

Understanding is an essential part of any relationship. When two people become that comfortable with each other, both parties learn the other's habits, annoyances and guilty pleasures.

Ever is often overlooked by the greater context of history, though it's these smaller moments of kindness and understanding that helped Ashal through both thick and thin.

That is the greater meaning of understanding, knowing when someone just needs a hot drink and a story to tell. Maybe, that small action will help a person go on to do greater things. You never know how important just talking may be.

As regardless of what history says, everyone is important to someone.

He spun around to see his sibling staring at him. Nisha’s face was empty, blanker than Rel had ever seen it. “You’re leaving,” xe said.

“Yes, I am.” He wanted to take a step towards xem, but his feet were rooted to the ground. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t.” Xyr voice broke on the word, pain flashing in xyr eyes for a moment. Xyr throat bobbed, and it vanished again, xyr next words deadpan but forced. “You are my brother. Stay.”

“I can’t stay.” Understand, Nish, please, please understand. “I’m not—I don’t belong here.”

The glass expression on Nisha’s face shattered, replaced by an utterly lost look. “You’re my brother. You belong with me.”

“I’m not happy here, Nish. You are.”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m happy,” Nisha snapped, straightening so xe stood at xyr full height. “It matters that I’m there for you. If you won’t stay, I’ll come with you.”

“It matters to me if you’re happy, you absolute—” Rel broke off in frustration. “I don’t want to argue! I need to go where I’m happy. You need to stay where you are.”

“I need to keep you safe—”

“I can keep myself safe!” Rel almost yelled, lowering his voice to a hiss at the last moment. His right hand warmed, and he clenched it into a fist to snuff out the tiny flame. “I am leaving on my own. And you. Are. Staying.”

Rel took a step back, out into the cold and the weak, grey light of dawn. His boot splashed as he stepped in a puddle of melted snow, but he didn’t notice. Nisha took a step towards him as if xe was magnetized to xyr twin.

“Don’t—no, let me—don’t leave me,” xe whispered, and Rel saw, to his utter shock, that xe had started to cry. Something inside him twisted.

“Nish, I have to leave.” Rel laughed, but it was choked off by his own tears, and it had no humor in it to begin with. “I have to, don’t you get it? I can’t stay here; this isn’t where I belong. But you love it here. You go to the library and read for hours, and you come back brighter than I’ve ever seen you.”

“I don’t belong here either.” Nisha’s voice was small.

“But you are happy here. Being happy is important.” Rel searched Nisha’s face. “You know that, right?”

All he got in return was a stare from very wet eyes. He saw no agreement, and his heart hurt.

“I love you,” Rel said, trying to put all the emotion he could into the words.

Nisha blinked at him. Xyr hand twitched as if simultaneously wanting and refusing to reach out. “Please.” Barely audible, this time. “Please don’t.”

“I love you, Nisha. And I’ll send you letters. And I will come back. You won’t—”

“Do not promise me that I won’t lose you,” Nisha snarled, but there was no heat to it. “You cannot promise that.” Xyr voice grew louder. “No one can promise that, and you know it!”

“You will not lose me,” Rel said anyway, putting as much emphasis into the words as he could. “You will not.”

“Rel, please,” xe tried one last time. “Please, please, please don’t leave.”

“I’m sorry, Nish. I have to.” Rel hiked his pack higher on his shoulder. “I have to. I love you.”

He turned, finally breaking away from xyr gaze, and walked away. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to run or drag his feet, but he did neither, even steps taking him down the stairs to the asura gate.

I’ll write, he thought. This isn’t forever, it’s just for now. I need this. So do you. I wish you knew that. I wish I wasn’t terrified to be wrong.

I love you. I love you. I love you.