Years Lost and Gained
Epilogue
(read parts One, Two and Three first)
“Yes, mistress. I understand. I see. That poor boy…but why? I know, I know, but in a way, it’s my fault. I started them in that direction. Yes my lady, I know I couldn’t help. But it’s so hard sometimes…I guess I’m just tired, that’s all. No, I’m fine…just tired.”
He kissed the altar reverently. Normally he felt rejuvenated after talking to Rotan.
Today Sepyt got up from his knees with an effort. Today, he just felt old.
“You may pass. I have been asked not stop you. It is not up to me to mete out your punishment.”
The shadows separated from the man like a cloak. His skin rippled, mottling into a darker hue. His hair grew and became auburn. The face narrowed and shrank. Where there was a large man, now stood a woman.
She appraised herself critically. The clothes were hanging in folds on her.
“I don’t suppose you could spare me some…”
“Leave.”
“No, I suppose you could not.”
She motioned to the back chamber, and a man limped out, bloody and one-armed, followed by a scowling twin carrying a wicked spear.
As she moved past Sepyt, she stopped and faced him hesitantly.
“You…you may believe this or not, but I wish…I wish things had turned out differently. Tell Souriin…tell him that in the end, we’re always alone. Tell him that the rest is all a delusion.”
Sepyt’s eyes searched her face. The bitterness seemed to be genuine, but…
She smiled at him sadly, turned to the twins, and helped them to the door. Sepyt stood still for a long time after they left. He needed sleep. He walked slowly to the back chamber.
There was a small font in the middle of the room. It was dry and cracked from age, and there was a note within.
He opened it and read it.
 
“This is my gift to you, Souriin. It is as empty as you are. May it serve
you as a reminder of what happens when mortals meddle. I know.”
                            T.
He placed the note back in the font. There was a strange symbol on the front, inscribed into the stone, but Sepyt, never having heard of Hicluin could not decode it. It would wait. Souriin was coming, and he would need all of his energy if he were to help him heal.
Two months he had howled for Her presence. He had pleaded, threatened, cajoled and enticed. He had offered his fortune, and threatened to burn it all. It was all in vain. Lillyos had grown silent to his cries. It was on the fiftieth day that he perceived Her joke. He had laughed until he had no voice, until his hands hurt from slapping them on the ground. This was how they thought to punish him. Lillyos had not turned her face from him. She was probably looking at him even now! It didn’t matter that he could not cast spells. It didn’t even matter that he didn’t have a penny left to his name. Nobody seemed to recognise him anymore – in any of his guises. He lifted himself off the floor. People were walking past him, giving him a wide berth. Some dropped him coppers. He ignored them. They had played right into Her hands. He should have known that She would never abandon him. He was a non-entity. A man with no name. A nobody. A shadow. He was Her Chosen One. He would make Lilliyos proud of him. There was so much to do…and so little time. He pilfered a purse from a pedestrian. Ten minutes later, he emerged from the tailor, a thin courteous middle-aged man with a happy smile.
He stood on the rocks above. The sea breeze whipped his face with a combination of sand and water. The setting sun was shining in his eyes, bathing his body in pleasant warmth. It was high tide, and the water overflowed the banks of the strange round lake. The site of the vault was overgrown with vegetation. Yellow blossoms covered the upper shore, defying wind, rock and salt with their existence. A lot could happen in a year. He took out the folded letter, and shielding it from the winds with his body, he read it again…
“Dearest Souriin,

It is difficult for me to tell you what I feel as I have never had the knack for poetry, and I claim no talent for writing, but these words come from my heart. I hope that time can heal the mistakes I have made. I’ve told myself it’s hopeless, but I cannot forget you, or what we had for a brief while. I hope that you find it in yourself to forgive me.

It started as a joke, as a possibility of a challenging game. I make no excuses for what I did, but my intentions were never cruel. I don’t know how, but the spell that was meant to charm you, revealed you to me. I thought I could keep my distance, but as I watched you from afar, you were already growing in my heart. While we were together, I felt whole for the first time since my mother’s death.

I have wanted to visit you many times, but I’m a coward, and I prefer fantasy to rejection.  Even though I no longer hear your thoughts, there is something of you with me always. I will be at the bluffs where we met first, above the camp, one year from today. I will understand if you do not show up. Please come.

Adara.”

He folded the letter carefully, blinking at the spray. He sat down on the rocks, watching the sea for a while, marvelling at it’s timeless power. He released the letter as the sun touched the horizon, and it floated in the wind, until a gust separated the pages and the sea claimed them. A figure slowly approached from the north. Her long auburn hair was twisting in the wind, as was her short summer dress. She raised her hand, as if to wave, but she shielded her eyes from the sun instead. She stood there on the beach, waiting. Souriin froze…

…She saw him from the distance, sitting on the ledge, watching the sea. Although she couldn’t hear his thoughts, she felt the turmoil of his emotions. She walked as steadily as she could. She started to wave as he looked down at her, but the uncertainty and hurt in his thoughts stopped her. She stood there, hardly daring to breathe.

An age later, he stood up, and vanished. Adara drew a shuddering breath, and turned to watch the sun as it sank beneath the waves. He needed time. They both did. Time to heal, and time to forget. Someday, he would return. She smiled through her hair at the red, sinking sun, spreading her arms as if to embrace it…

The End.