Crown of Frost & shadows

Chapter 12 -A Mate's Vow

It was like watching a scene from myth, as the woman's bony fingers dug into the Elf's arms while her mouth latched onto her like a lifeline. Alarielle stood frozen, her feet glued to the floor, as the horror unfolded before her eyes. The woman's face twisted in desperation, hunger etched into every feature, as she clung to the Elf, who was trying to pull away, panic flooding her eyes.

Around them, chaos erupted. Elves dashed in every direction, their graceful forms now frantic as they gathered their children, pulling them close to shield them from the terrifying sight. Cries filled the air—shouts of fear, the wails of frightened children, and the frantic calls of mothers urging their families to safety.

A strangled cry erupted from Mavrick. “Denny! Let go!!” His voice was filled with desperation as he sprinted toward his mate, but Jeraldine’s head snapped around, her eyes wide and wild. There was not an ounce of recognition in them, only a primal, feral rage that sent chills down Alarielle’s spine.

An animalistic screech erupted from Jeraldine’s throat, raw and filled with a kind of anguish that echoed in the chaos around them. Blood smeared her lips, a gruesome reminder of the transformation that had overtaken her. Alarielle’s heart raced as she watched Mavrick slow, his own expression a mix of fear and heartbreak as he desperately reached for her.

A strangled cry erupted from Mavrick. “Denny! Let go!!” His voice was filled with desperation as he sprinted toward his mate, but Jeraldine’s head snapped around, her eyes wide and wild. There was not an ounce of recognition in them, only a primal, feral rage that sent chills down Alarielle’s spine.

An animalistic screech erupted from Jeraldine’s throat, raw and filled with a kind of anguish that echoed through the chaos around them. Blood smeared her lips, a gruesome reminder of the transformation that had overtaken her. Alarielle’s heart raced as she watched Mavrick slow, his own expression a mix of fear and heartbreak as he desperately reached for her.

“Evacuate the area now! Leave!” Zār’s voice rang through the crowd, cutting through the panic like a blade. The remaining elves scrambled to flee, urgency propelling them as they grabbed their children and made for safety.

Alarielle felt the surge of chaos ripple around her, but her eyes remained locked on Mavrick and Jeraldine. She could see the love and despair etched into Mavrick’s features, a heart-wrenching sight that ignited her own desperation. .

“Denny!” Mavrick shouted, his voice breaking as he tried to reach out to his mate once more. “You’re stronger than this! Fight it!”

But the primal scream that erupted from Jeraldine seemed to drown out his words, her body trembling with the struggle between instinct and the remnants of her humanity.

Beside Alarielle, she felt Ravareth tremble. She looked up to see his face, a mixture of despair and shock as he witnessed his grandmother in such a nightmarish state. His eyes widened, horror spilling across his features as the reality of the situation sank in.

Ravareth’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles white as he fought against the instinct to run to her. Alarielle could see the turmoil brewing inside him—the struggle between wanting to protect his family and the overwhelming fear of what Jeraldine had become.

“Get Mal out of here, Rav, and find Thalorin and Magra. Ask Magra to stay with Mal!” Ralkov shouted over to his son, urgency lacing his voice.

But Ravareth's eyes were glued on his grandmother, the horror of the moment trapping him in place. Ralkov quickly crossed the distance, his hand gripping Ravareth’s shoulder tightly. “Rav! GO! Now! Get Malrek OUT!” he shouted again, his voice echoing through the chaos.

This time, Ravareth stumbled, the weight of his father’s command cutting through the fog of panic. He nodded, forcing himself to focus as he glanced back at Jeraldine one last time, heart aching.

“Come on, Mal!” he urged, grabbing Malrek's hand tightly. The young boy’s wide eyes filled with confusion and fear, but he didn’t hesitate to follow Ravareth as they began to run.

But before Ravareth could go further, an ear-splitting screech erupted from Jeraldine. With a terrifying swiftness, she hurled Mavrick aside like a ragdoll, her wild eyes now fixed on Ravareth and Malrek.

Alarielle’s heart raced as she witnessed the scene unfold in front of her. Her eyes grew wide with shock, and instinct kicked in. Both Ralkov and Zār moved in extreme speed, positioning themselves protectively in front of Ravareth and Malrek, their faces grim and determined.

But Jeraldine was quicker. With an almost predatory grace, she lunged forward, her long claws extended, ready to strike. Ravareth stood frozen, disbelief gripping him as he processed the transformation of the grandmother he loved into this monstrous form.

Just as Jeraldine’s claws were about to reach him, Ralkov acted, grabbing her from behind in a powerful embrace. He wrestled with her, trying to subdue the creature that had once been his beloved mate. “Denny! Fight it! Remember who you are!” he shouted, his voice echoing with desperation.

Jeraldine thrashed against him, her primal instincts taking over as she fought to break free. “Get away from me!” she screeched, her voice a horrifying mix of fury and anguish. The raw emotion of her words cut through the chaos, reverberating in the hearts of those around her.

Ravareth’s breath caught in his throat. “Nonna!” he shouted, desperation flooding his voice.

Jeraldine paused, a flicker of recognition passing through her wild eyes. Ralkov took the opportunity to tighten his grip, holding her steady.

In that moment, Alarielle’s memories and reality collided in a dizzying rush. Raener’s face seemed to materialize on Jeraldine’s, his familiar features twisted by anguish. It knocked the breath from her lungs, leaving her gasping for air as her heart twisted in her chest.

“No… no…” she whispered, tears blurring her vision. “Not again!” The weight of her loss surged through her.

Malrek, who had been standing behind Ravareth, stepped forward to get a better look. The moment Jeraldine's eyes landed on him, something primal seemed to awaken within her. She shook violently in Ralkov's grip before sinking her teeth into his arm. Ralkov let out a cry of pain, and the force of her movement caused him to stumble backward, headfirst into Ravareth.

Zār moved swiftly, his sword drawn, and positioned the blade to Jeraldine’s throat. The tension in the air was palpable, the weight of a terrible choice hanging over them.

"NO!" Mavrick cried, his voice breaking. "Please, don’t! She’s my mate! My Danny is just... unwell... please!" The old elf sobbed as he rushed toward Zār, desperation and heartbreak etched into every line on his face.

Alarielle’s mind raced, and she reached out to her magic, frantic. Are you still resting, or can you help me now?! she demanded.

Are you going to attack her? Maddy’s voice echoed back, calm but curious.

No, we need to protect her, not hurt her. Can’t we use some kind of defense magic? Alarielle asked, her impatience growing. And can your magic even work here?

I am not mere Fae magic; I can do whatever I want, Maddy grumbled, her tone brimming with pride.

Then tell me what to do, Alarielle urged, watching Zār’s grip tighten, the conflict clear on his face as he hesitated to harm Jeraldine.

Give me control, Maddy said, almost lazily, as if it were the simplest solution.

NO. You lend power! I’m not letting you harm anyone! Alarielle countered fiercely, her heart pounding.

Fine, Maddy sighed. But you don’t have much practice or experience, so this might take a toll on you.

Just tell me what to do! Alarielle shouted internally, her eyes darting between Zār struggling to hold Jeraldine back and Mavrick, who was begging for his mate’s life.

Close your eyes, concentrate, and find the strand of magic, Maddy ordered. Alarielle took a step back, closed her eyes, and tried to steady her breathing.

I don't see anything! Frustration clawed at her as the seconds felt like hours.

Imagine and picture every bit of power that you feel inside your body, Maddy instructed patiently, guiding Alarielle through the haze.

Alarielle breathed out slowly, focusing inward. In the darkness of her mind, two threads of light appeared: one, a blue strand with gold lines woven through it, and the other, a glowing silver intertwined with black vines.

I can see two, she whispered.

Don't touch the dark one! Touch but don't grab the other one! Maddy's voice was firm but gentle, guiding her.

Alarielle hesitantly reached out to the blue strand, and as soon as she made contact, an icy power surged through her veins, cold and exhilarating. She gasped, opening her eyes to find the scene before her had shifted.

Zār’s face was contorted with conflict, and Alarielle could see how much it hurt him to even consider harming Jeraldine. Yet, Mavrick’s pleas rang out, and for a moment, Zār hesitated, his sword lowering slightly.

“Zārok, let her go. Denny won’t attack! Won’t you?” Mavrick said softly, inching closer. Jeraldine stopped struggling and c****d her head slightly, as if trying to remember.

Zār looked over to Ralkov, the turmoil clear in his eyes. Ralkov gave a reluctant nod, and with a deep, shaky breath, Zar released Jeraldine and dropped his sword.

But the moment she was freed, Jeraldine’s gaze snapped to Malrek, and before anyone could react, she lunged at him. A scream tore from Alarielle’s throat as she instinctively shot her arms forward. The magic surged out of her, and an icy cocoon formed around Malrek, protecting him just as Jeraldine’s claws swiped at the barrier.

Jeraldine's eyes snapped to Alarielle, her snarl deepening as if recognizing a threat. But before she could move, Mavrick was there, throwing himself in front of her and colliding with her. They tumbled to the ground, a sickening thud resonating as they landed.

Alarielle’s heart stopped when she saw the blood pooling around them, realizing that Mavrick had taken the sword Zār had dropped and used it on his own mate.

Everything seemed to stand still, the chaotic noise fading into silence. The scene felt like a terrible painting, frozen in time.

Mavrick’s face was pale, his hands trembling as he held Jeraldine, the blade still lodged in her chest. “I’m sorry, Danny... I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

But Alarielle could not savor the stillness. The magic within her burned hotter, colder, fiercer, as if trying to consume her whole. The ice continued to spread, creeping across the ground, freezing everything in its path.

LET GO NOW, FAELING! LET GO OF THE MAGIC! Maddy’s voice was a scream in her mind, panicked and commanding. You are absorbing too much! Let go before it burns you out!

“I’m trying!” Alarielle cried, her voice barely more than a whimper as she fought against the overwhelming power coursing through her. It felt as though her veins were being filled with ice and fire, freezing her and burning her from the inside out.

Breathe, Alarielle. Focus on releasing it. Let it flow out, not in! Maddy instructed, her tone urgent but more controlled.

Alarielle clenched her fists, trying to will the magic to drain away. But it was like trying to stop a raging river, the power resisting her attempts to contain it. She could feel it tearing at her, trying to rip her apart.

“Please...” she whispered, her vision blurring as tears and cold mingled on her cheeks.

The icy tendrils slowed, the chill receding slightly as she focused on expelling the magic. Slowly, agonizingly, the power ebbed, slipping out of her grasp and dispersing into the cold night air.

As the surrounding ice began to melt, Alarielle collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath, her body shaking with exhaustion. She looked up to see Mavrick still cradling Jeraldine’s limp form, his tears falling silently onto her blood-streaked face.

And in the stillness, Alarielle could hear Mavrick’s soft, broken whisper, “I love you, Danny. Always.”

Mavrick lay down next to Jeraldine, his trembling hands gently cradling her face. Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, the wildness and confusion in her gaze softened, replaced by a flicker of recognition. “Mav...” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I...”

“Shhh,” Mavrick murmured, pressing a finger to her lips, his eyes glistening with tears. He pulled her close, cradling her against his chest as if trying to shield her from the world. “I vowed to you,” he began, his voice steady despite the heartbreak etched in every word. “That I would love you until the stars stopped shining. Until the moon fell to the ground, the same way darkness embraces the shadows. You were the light in my darkness and the sun of my life. I love you now, and I will love you even as my bones fade into ashes.”

A sob escaped Jeraldine, her lips trembling as she tried to respond, but the words never came. Her breath hitched, a painful, ragged sound, and she choked as she struggled for air. “Mav...” she managed, her eyes filling with tears, before her body shuddered and she took her last breath, the light fading from her eyes.

Mavrick’s own breath hitched as he felt the life slip away from her, his arms tightening around her as if he could somehow hold her soul in place. He closed his eyes, his face pressed against her hair, and his chest stilled. The breath he had been holding never came again, as if he had decided that without her, there was no need for it.

Together, they lay in the quiet aftermath, the chaos of the night receding around them. Alarielle watched, tears streaming down her face as she understood what had happened, her heart breaking for the love they had shared, a love so profound that even death could not part them.

The world seemed to pause, as if mourning with them, the air heavy with grief. And in that stillness, the only sound was the soft patter of the rain, falling gently over the village, washing away the blood and pain, leaving only the memory of two souls entwined, even in their final moments.

Memories washed over Alarielle, soft whispers from a past that still clung to her heart. You are my twilight star, a faint voice echoed, and she could almost feel Raener’s presence, like a warm hand caressing her.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Alarielle pushed herself up on shaking legs, barely able to stand. Every step felt heavy, as if the weight of the night was trying to drag her back down, but she forced herself to move. She had to. Her eyes found Ravareth and Malrek, and she saw the stillness in Ravareth’s posture, so rigid she couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. Beside him, Malrek was curled up, his small frame shaking with quiet sobs as the icy cocoon around him slowly melted, dripping away like tears.

Without thinking, Alarielle stumbled forward, her arms reaching out to the boy. She knelt down and wrapped him in a tight, protective hug, her own tears streaming down her face. “It’s okay,” she whispered, even though she wasn’t sure if anything was okay anymore. “I’m here.”

Malrek clung to her, his sobs muffled against her shoulder, as if he could draw strength from the warmth of her embrace. Alarielle held him close, feeling the fragility of his small frame, and it broke her heart all over again.

Zār rushed over, his silver eyes scanning Malrek for injuries, his hands trembling as he checked the boy for any signs of harm. Finding none, he let out a relieved breath and then looked up, his gaze meeting Alarielle’s. For a moment, they stood there, drenched in rain and grief, but bound by a shared determination to protect what was left.

“Thank you,” Zār said, his voice rough but sincere. There was a mixture of relief and sorrow in his eyes, a recognition of everything Alarielle had done to keep Malrek safe, even at the cost of her own strength.

Alarielle didn’t respond, but she nodded, her own tears still streaming as she tightened her hold on Malrek, as if afraid that letting go would mean losing everything all over again.

Soon, elves dressed in white gathered around them, their faces solemn as they encircled the couple on the ground. The atmosphere was heavy with grief, yet there was a serene, almost reverent stillness. Malrek stood next to Zār, his small hands clutching tightly to Zār's, his little frame still shaking with quiet sobs. Zar's face was a mix of despair and frustration, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he tried to hold himself together.

Ravareth, however, stood apart from the others, his expression blank, as if carved from stone. Ralkov stood beside him, fists clenched at his sides, tears shining in his eyes, but he made no move to wipe them away. The sorrow was raw and unhidden, a silent acknowledgment of all they had lost.

Alarielle moved closer to Zār, her heart heavy with the sight of the couple lying still on the ground. "Are they not going to bury them?" she asked, her voice trembling, barely above a whisper.

Zār shook his head, his eyes briefly meeting hers. “Elves don’t bury their dead. You’ll see,” he said, his voice low and somber.

Alarielle watched as Edna, her body shaking with sobs, stepped forward and gently laid flowers on Mavrick and Jeraldine. The petals trembled as they touched the lifeless forms, and Alarielle’s chest tightened at the sight. One by one, every elf present stepped forward, laying flowers on their bodies, a tribute to their spirits.

“We need to get flowers too,” Alarielle said, taking a step forward, wanting to show her own respect. But before she could move further, Zār’s hand reached out and caught hers, stopping her.

“No,” he said gently but firmly. “It’s their ceremony. We don’t interfere. Just stay and pay your respects.”

Alarielle hesitated, then nodded, stepping back as she watched the elves form a circle around the bodies. They stood with their hands clasped in front of them, heads bowed, and then began to chant in unison. The words flowed like a gentle, melodic river, carrying a deep sense of peace and reverence.

"Valya sennal, ilin theloria, arlun tura, naer silorin. Valya en'ariel, naera galad, naula shiel, auril kelva, haina. Daurion vell naur, en shiel amin melme, amin fael, amin ianara."

(Rest now, beloved souls, journey forth, and find peace. Rest in the light, gentle spirits, where the dawn embraces the dusk, and love binds the night. Let the fire of your essence guide you, bright and pure, into eternity.)

As the chant filled the air, soft and melodic, a transformation began. Flowers started to grow from the ground around the bodies, delicate blooms unfurling their petals, their colors vibrant and pure. Vines wove through the flowers, slowly creeping over Mavrick and Jeraldine, tenderly wrapping them in a cocoon of blossoms.

The vines twisted and intertwined, covering them completely, until the forms beneath were no longer visible. Alarielle could feel a warmth emanating from the circle, as if the love and respect of the elves were woven into the very earth, guiding the departed souls gently onward.

As the final notes of the chant echoed through the clearing, a soft light began to glow from within the cocoon of flowers. It grew brighter, the light shimmering and pulsing, until it was almost too brilliant to look at. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the light faded, leaving nothing but a bed of flowers where the bodies had once lain, a peaceful, eternal garden.

The ceremony was complete, and the circle of elves slowly dispersed, their faces still heavy with grief but softened by the serenity of the ritual. Alarielle stood there, her heart aching yet strangely calm, as if the ritual had offered a quiet closure she hadn’t known she needed.

“May you find peace, wherever you are.” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat.

As the night wore on, the entire village was illuminated by the soft glow of candles, their warm light flickering in the dark as a symbol of grief. The candles lined windowsills, doorways, and paths, creating a sea of gentle light that seemed to cradle the village in a quiet embrace. It was as though each flame carried a whisper of sorrow, a silent acknowledgment of the loss that had touched them all.

Inside Mavrick’s small living room, the atmosphere was heavy with sadness. Elves gathered, their faces somber, as they sat together, sharing the stillness that followed such a tragedy. But as Alarielle looked around, she realized that one person was missing. Ravareth wasn’t there.

Something tugged at her, a feeling that she knew where he would be. She quietly slipped out of the room, letting the cool night air guide her as she made her way back to the bed of flowers where Mavrick and Jeraldine had been laid to rest. The soft scent of blossoms lingered in the air.

There, in front of the flower-covered mound, she saw Ravareth, sitting silently, his face blank and unreadable. Alarielle approached slowly, not wanting to intrude, but she couldn’t leave him there alone. She sat down next to him, the two of them side by side, enveloped in the soft glow of distant candles. For a while, neither of them spoke, letting the quiet wrap around them like a shroud.

After a long silence, Ravareth’s voice finally broke through, low and rough. “When I was little, I used to come to this village a lot with my mother, when my father was away on missions. Nonna would always make me chocolate moon cakes. I loved them.” His lips twitched into a sad, distant smile. “She was still sick back then, but she was better. She would laugh and tease Grandpa, always pretending to scold him for being too serious. And she’d protect me from my mother’s scolding when I did something stupid.”

He let out a breath, a sound that was almost a laugh but choked with grief. “When Nonna got worse, once, when we were visiting, my mother went to see her… and Nonna lashed out, not recognizing her. She didn’t even know who her own daughter was. It broke my mother’s heart. She never came back here after that. She couldn’t bear to see her mother not know who she was.”

A sob escaped him, the sound raw and aching, and Alarielle felt her heart tighten as she listened. “Now we have to tell her that her mother and father are no more,” Ravareth continued, his voice trembling. “And she couldn’t even see them for the last time.”

Alarielle’s chest ached with the weight of his words. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, to say something that would make it all okay, but she knew there were no words for this kind of pain. Instead, she shifted closer, letting her shoulder rest against his, offering the warmth of her presence.

“I’m sorry, Ravareth,” she whispered, her own voice thick with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, his tears spilling silently down his cheeks. For a moment, they sat like that, two shadows in the night, leaning on each other for support. The bed of flowers in front of them glowed softly in the moonlight, a reminder of lives that had been full of love, laughter, and warmth, now gone.

As the candles flickered across the village, Alarielle felt the sorrow ripple through her, but she also felt a quiet resolve. She could not change what had happened, could not bring back what was lost, but she would stay. For Ravareth, for Malrek, and for all those who were left behind.

“Your Nonna loved you,” she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t think she ever really forgot that, even when she was sick. And Mavrick... he loved her so much, he couldn’t let her go alone.”

Ravareth closed his eyes, her words sinking in, mingling with the grief and memories that swirled inside him. “I just wish it hadn’t ended like this,” he whispered. “I wish... I wish we could have had one more day. One more moment.”

Alarielle didn’t know what to say, so she stayed quiet, letting her presence speak for her. She knew that sometimes, just being there was enough. And as they sat together, surrounded by the glow of the village's grief, she hoped that somehow, that shared silence could ease a little of the pain, even if only for a moment.