Calm before the storm

[Izznet H'unar]

The quiet before the storm is always a most dangerous time in the forest. Animals are on high alert and often given to violent outbreaks for no reason. So too are the tensions high within those who walk the Glade on two feet. Violent and passionate outbreaks erupt from minor offenses that normally would be ignored without question. The disappearance of Aedon... Is that calm.

Walking the world has taken a new look for Izznet. Behind every door and in every corner she sees the dark shadows of suspicion. Allowing others to be involved in the investigation has opened up the opportunity for the real beast to also know what is happening. She is not afraid, she is angry. Her own calm boiling deep within her soul is a raging cauldron eager to spill over into the fury of her culture.

The body that was buried was Not that of Aedon. The scar on their chest was in the wrong place, close but not exact. James’ discovery, and subsequent acquisition, of a ring proved it was not her beloved. The stirring in her heart and soul was confusing, was he alive and in danger or was he dead? Only time would prove.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

Sitting at the grave of a stranger had become as much of a necessity as a habit. Who was this stranger that had tried so hard to impersonate Aedon? More to the point, why? The questions flooded her mind making it almost impossible to think clearly.

Not knowing was far worse than thinking he was dead. It may have been why they had deliberately kept information from her, yet still she was angry. How deep did the deception go? Was this all an elaborate scheme to keep them apart? They had barely been together a year and the entire time others had tried to split their association.

Was she that horrible that the Universe itself wanted to be rid of her? Was that all it would take to return him to his rightful place, her to leave? There would have to be a better reason. She needed to understand.

Angry tears fell over the soft dirt again.

“Either tell me what I have done that is So awful or Return him! Enough of These ridiculous games!”

Pounding the dirt she released the anger and hurt. No one was there to watch or see it, so what difference did it make?

“Just bring him back to me. Please?” she whispered to the ground.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

The time had come to set feet to the ground. The dance needed to be done, if for no other reason than to see into the Veil. She had no idea what, if anything, she would see. Her hope was to glimpse evidence of ‘chev. Patience was wearing thin and hope was growing dim.

She had been deceived and that alone had allowed the search for him to go longer than it should have. Why would they lie to her? Had she not earned their confidence even yet?

She had spoken to others who assured her they would remain vigilant in their watch for clues and signs. All she had left was the plea to the divine. Even that felt useless and hollow.

Dance, little girl, dance.

The song my heart wants to sing, is not the melody that rings true.

Flow from me that which will show my heart’s desire.

Take back that which will give him life and breath.

Is it mine to give? Then I give it freely.

What was too greatly paid let be returned for sake of those greater than myself.

He is far more important to this land than I.

The circle pillars stood tall and stoic, watching as her feet moved and heart shattered. They bore witness of her despair quietly. Her loneliness they saw without feeling, her cries they heard without response. The marble took her words and buried them in the ground.

Closing her eyes she summoned visions of the face she held dear.

“Come to me within my sight. Give me your smile and show me you are yet alive.”

There was no way to know how long she lay on the ground. Apparently it had been long enough to have a small gray rabbit find her non -threatening. It curled up at her hip and slept.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

Retrieving the bracelet that bound her physical presence to his was a desperate act, yet one she felt necessary. If there was any hope he was yet alive perhaps the soft glow of the bracelet would let him know she sought him.

Very little evidence was available that he was yet alive. Her connection to him was void. Was he there, if so did he miss her as badly as she missed him? She only had the single thread of hope to carry her forward. It was the unknown that played the most vicious tricks in her mind and heart.

Donning the bracelet she released a quiet sigh. The “widow’s walk” suddenly took a new look. One day at a time she would walk the world as if in a fog. But she would continue to walk it, if for no other reason than to be something he would want to return to.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

A society that had been abandoned centuries ago had become a glimmer of hope in the approaching storm. After a devastating turn of events in her early years, Izznet had sworn against the Spider Queen, the Drow society as a whole and Humans. Her life had been solitary for generations because of that choice.

The days of embracing the lone existence were quickly drawing to a close. She found herself longing for the friendships of others. She had once been told “it’s not a matter of quantity of friendships but the quality of those friends.” That rang true more than ever with the absence of ‘chev.

Embracing the Dark Maiden had given a perspective on top worlders that had been lost with the Spider Queen. Regardless of how others viewed her, she regarded life with respect. Even in her “former self” she held respect for those living beings that she was forced to steal.

Aedon had been the first to see and not judge her for her darkness. He looked beyond her nature and saw the glimmer of hope seeded deep within. It was his actions that had given her redemption. She owed him everything.

She had spoken a promise to him early in their relationship. She knew there would never be a way for her to become a true part of his family, yet he would be part of hers for as long as he chose to keep her. Until such a time as he forcefully removed her from his life, she would hold him as her Mate. It may only be recognized by her, but the commitment she held seriously.

The notion of returning to his ship to set an offering had been given wings. She bathed and donned a fresh garment. Regardless of who she met, she would approach the alter in an attitude of respect. Nemira was Aedon’s Matriarch, as such she commanded respect.

“Receive this offering in the spirit it is intended,” she whispered as she placed the mugs of coffee and the note in the hold.

Turning back Izznet lowered her head before recalling to her home. The flutters in her heart threatened to overtake her as she entered The House of Song. Fingering the bracelet of binding as it lay dark in her hand she hoped for a time he would summon her to him. It was a thin wish of selfish desire that may never find her, but still she hoped to be with him.

Sitting by the fire at Aerlinnbar she watched the flames dance remembering happy times of peace. They were far too few and spread apart, but maybe someday she would find that peace again. Smiling softly into the flames she could almost feel him near her.

As the last rays of sun graced the windows a soft melody escaped her lips. Her songs were melancholy, as was her society, but her hopes and prayers were given wing and voice in her song. Closing her eyes she could almost see the smoke from the fire carry her words on the wind.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

A new system had been established that allows brief moments to see him face to face. Her joy could hardly be contained after each visit. The ability to feel his touch, taste his kiss, see his face, smell him and hear his voice allowed her something tangible for her mind to dwell. All her senses awoke again as she felt his heartbeat next to hers.

Returning to Yew the snow was beautiful underfoot. The silence of the forest was as a hushed sanctuary where the divine walked in its nature. Promises spoken under these boughs held deeply in her heart.

She held very little understanding of his family, but the one thing she knew for certain was Nemira was Mother, and Figol was Father. To that end she would honor them as if they were her own, especially that of Nemira, the Matriarch. Above all, Nemira held her undying respect and devotion. Aedon’s core responsibility was to the Matriarch, Izznet would always be lower in the list of priority.

Hearing his laugh at her “joke” on John was worth all the grief she had been given. She would continue to “decorate” the Rest, but the jest would be more from hope than desperation. Aedon was alive, and well. For that she was grateful.

“Listen for my voice on the winds, ‘chev. I will sing to you. Know I await your return!”

Her last words as she returned a passionate kiss lingered in the air as her spell of recall faded into the sea mists.