Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28358106-20160927005650/@comment-28358106-20161016074301

Bright shards are pulled from Ansherine, absorbed into the obelisk. They gather there, glowing, as the echo of Jeiel's memory begins to take shape. The light is absorbed into the obsidian slab, which begins to crack...

The obelisk implodes. In slow motion, the shards of its facets fly forth, rotating through the air, disappearing as they bounce from the floor, the music of their shattered ringing through the great hall. Like pieces of the past, the shards disappear, fading into the shadows....

There is a great silence. Victivius turns and ascends the steps to his throne. Slowly, he sits, the shadows of his being draping across the stone. 

"It is done."

He turns his face to the Paths. "And in being so, know this: the day will come when he again will attempt to bring ruin unto the world.  Do not think that it shall not.  And should you fail to stop him, and do what must be done..."

He raises his head. "...I SHALL."

He turns to me. "And so shall you keep your sacrifice unto me, o my brother.  Bring me the darkling child, when the life leaves her body.  Do so, and what she shall lose in the waking world, she shall gain here in eternity."

I give him a hard look. "It seems as if I have no choice."

"No.  You do not."

"Don't think that I won't come and bring her back if I think it's necessary."

"You may try."

I give him a long, hard look. I raise my hand, and the True Glyph grows, tearing into the air. In a swirl of bright arcanum, we are taken from the Crucible, the echo ofour departure ringing through the chamber.

Slowly, Aidlis climbs the steps to the throne. She looks distant, as if she is trying to remember something, perhaps a feeling, or a memory. She reaches the top, where she pauses before Victivius.

She looks up, and tears begin to fall from her face. She puts a clawed hand over her mouth, and falls to her knees, sobbing, her body wracked with stifled emotion, her distant voice the only sound within the Crucible. She leans forward, putting the side of her head on the fallen cape of her Lord.

The words come quietly, between sobs.

A...a daughter...at last, we will have a daughter. You...have kept your promise to me...

Slowly, the Void King places his hand atop her head, stroking her ashen hair.

"...Yes."

--

The paths look up. As of they had been there all along, they are in a garden.

Fiery maple leaves drift about the cobblestones as the crisp mountain air fills their lungs, clearing out the miasma of the Memento Mori. Like a bad dream, reality washes away the old and fills it with the bright and new.

The smell of pine is in the air, and baking bread.

I look to the paths. I seem unsure of what to say. "I...I'm sorry.  I didn't think...I mean, I..."

Then, beyond the still-green hedges, they hear a familiar voice...