Invisible once more, the Motherless move toward her and leave only a trail of barren land in their wake. They seek to crowd her from above, and Emilia knows the moment they succeed. They smother her fire and they slow down her heart, a mortal heart for an immortal being: this was the consequence.
She dimly remembers a time she did not know fear, only inspired it. But the chill that leaves her paralysed can be mistaken for nothing else, and she drops to her knees, a weak gasp at her throat.
Wrath isn't so far away that she fails to see the fear in his own expression, the kind she has only seen once before in a distant dream. His gardens, their vows, and then nothingness.
She's vowed to survive anything coming her way, if only through sheer spite. Yet what has her fighting through their attempts to drain is her singular desire to reach back to him. She fights for the scrape of air in her lungs, for the inch that she stumbles forward, for the spark at her very core no one else can have.
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She dimly remembers a time she did not know fear, only inspired it. But the chill that leaves her paralysed can be mistaken for nothing else, and she drops to her knees, a weak gasp at her throat.
Wrath isn't so far away that she fails to see the fear in his own expression, the kind she has only seen once before in a distant dream. His gardens, their vows, and then nothingness.
She's vowed to survive anything coming her way, if only through sheer spite. Yet what has her fighting through their attempts to drain is her singular desire to reach back to him. She fights for the scrape of air in her lungs, for the inch that she stumbles forward, for the spark at her very core no one else can have.