Of Darkness Born
Ianithiel kept her gaze to the sky, keen eyes trying hopelessly to pierce the long distances. Finally, she turned to her companion, rubbing her eyes to try and relieve the pain of staring so long and hard at nothing. “I’m sorry. I can’t see her,” she said quietly.
Lakaríön said nothing, did not move at all, ignoring her words. The gigantic white dragon sat perfectly still, wings folded close to his sides in what had to be an uncomfortable position, head still raised to the far away horizon. Ianithiel twisted a strand of white-blond hair in her fingers worriedly. Yamyrri had been gone for two days now, and her absence was having a very negative effect on the dragon. Lakaríön had not moved from this spot since Yamyrri had left, and even Kalavai was not able to move him. That is, when she could calm her down enough to get her to listen.
Ianithiel sighed. Lately it seemed her friends were disintegrating around her. Something had happened to Kalavai the same day Yamyrri had left. Dayarvon had found her lying on the ground, motionless, and had not managed to get her up. It was like she was in a coma, but there were times when she’d come to herself again, and during these times she would be incoherent with terror. Ever now and then, Dayarvon would manage to calm her down, and Ianithiel was able to convince her to come and see Lakaríön. But it hadn’t worked, and then Kalavai would fall into the coma again. Dayarvon was wearing himself down to nothing trying to help cure her. And as for Legolas…
Ianithiel sighed again and rubbed her head. She did not know what was going on between Legolas and her. He was everywhere she was, always offering unnecessary help, and she had caught him staring at her at least a dozen times. Finally, his constant attentions had worn her nerves down to the breaking point, and she lost her temper completely. She had shouted at him to leave her alone, and then stalked off in fury. Legolas hadn’t even said a word. That had been yesterday. She hadn’t seen him at all since.
A hesitant cough broke into her thoughts. Ianithiel looked up to see Dayarvon standing at the edge of the clearing. She managed a semblance of a grin and motioned for him that is was okay for him to come closer. He came, trudging along, and collapsed onto the ground. As he lay sprawled there Ianithiel noticed that he looked even worse then she had thought. His dark hair was in disarray, his eyes bloodshot, and every line of his body proclaimed a dead weariness. She felt a sudden burst of sympathy for her quiet friend, but did not know what she could do to help him.
“Dayarvon,” she began, “if there’s anything I can d-“
“She won’t wake up. She just won’t wake up. Wh-what am I going to do?!” Dayarvon’s voice shook with anger and fear. “Ianithiel…..” Tears began to course down his face. “What am I going to do?!”
Unable to think of a reply, Ianithiel could only watch her friend helplessly.
: You will fight it. She will come back. I am not dead; she is not dead. She will come back. And I will find Yamyrri. : Lakaríön spoke into Dayarvon’s mind, a light of hope in the storm. The the dragon plunged off the cliff edge he was standing on, rapid wing beats carrying him far off into the distance.
“Wh-what? Where is he going? Dayarvon?” Ianithiel turned towards her friend, confused.
“He is off to find Yamyrri. And I must get back to Kalavai. She will need me.” He strode away, leaving Ianithiel once again alone.
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