Werond gasped. And immediately choked on her spit.

She clutched at her throat as a racking fit consumed her body, sharp pain stabbing through her chest with each cough. Her throat felt dry, as though her last drink had been years ago, and she half expected an iron taste to fill her mouth, so violently did her body jerk from each shaky inhale. She was dimly aware that she was on her side, and in a small bid for comfort, Werond curled in on herself as she waited for the fit to subside.

And eventually, it did – her racking coughs slowly began to peter out, until the only sound that Werond made was the occasional ahem of clearing her raw throat, cringing at the sharp pain that prickled her each time, along with the echo that filled her ears.

The only sound to fill her ears.

Werond jerked and raised her head, eyes snapping open – to nothing.

She blinked, then blinked again; she squeezed her eyes shut, tight enough to hurt, then opened them once more.

Still, nothing.

Body trembling, doubts rising to the surface of her mind, Werond raised her hand and gasped when she could not see it. She brought it toward her face – still unable to see her hand despite knowing it’s position – and poked at her eyes. They were indeed open, and the realization sent a shiver down her spine.

She dropped her hand and felt it thud onto the ground, slick to the touch. No matter which direction Werond’s eyes darted to, her vision remained the same. It was as though she were submerged in an inky blackness, a darkness so thick that Werond was almost convinced that she had gone blind. It was only for her firm denial of the idea that kept the panic at bay.

Body still trembling, Werond uncurled her legs and pushed herself to her knees, a wave of dizziness crashing over her as she did. She slipped and caught herself on the oily ground – if she even could call it that – as she straightened, head on a swivel as she frantically searched for something, anything, to break the monotony of the dark that filled her vision.

But there was nothing – nothing save the ever continuous expanse of darkness that enveloped her – nothing to break the bleak landscape that swallowed her whole – nothing to give her any indication of where exactly she was, and her breath grew shallower and shallower as she racked her mind to how she’d even arrived in such a place, her thoughts turning as black as the void that surrounded her.

She remembered Jarlaxle’s appearance, as sudden as ever; remembered the dagger thrown to her and the responsibility that came with; remembered the pleading in Serena’s eyes as Werond realized her situation; remembered her decision to –

A low, painful sigh escaped her lips as Werond’s lungs began to burn, the trembling of her body growing violent; her teeth began to chatter as a shiver from the bottom of her spine crept up her back and into her head, drenching her utterly in an icy realization.

Was she…?

Werond’s quavering hand darted to her neck – the skin was smooth, undisturbed, as though she hadn’t dragged a dagger through it just moments before.

“But – wait – no – no – no” She whispered, voice raw, blood frozen in her veins.

Her hand dropped from her throat and fell to her chest, pressed against the spot where her heart was. Werond’s eyes grew wide, and she yanked her hand away as though it had been burned.

Unable to breath, her fingers darted back up to her neck, pressing against the large vein within it. But just like with her chest, Werond felt nothing – no thump, no pulse, no indication that her heart was beating at all.

She was dead.

Her world came crashing down around her, brought low by the force of her understanding, powerful as the executioner’s axe swung by eager hands, shattering her frozen soul into a thousand unsalvageable pieces; Werond clutched at her dormant chest and screamed, her throes of terror echoing into the uncaring void.

She hunched over and sucked in air through clenched teeth, her body shivering in vain to fight off the despair that froze every crevice of her body. Tears cascaded down her cheeks, falling unseen onto her knees, as Werond died a second time, trapped within a void of no end. Questions and thoughts bubbled their way to the surface of her mind, vying for her attention, yet each died under the onslaught of aguish that racked Werond’s body. There was no self-pity, no coming to terms, no reassurances – only the explosive release of realizing the extent of her punishment, and the icy understanding that she deserved every bit of suffering that it brought her.

The tears did not cease until Werond’s body finally gave out on itself, deprived of any will to continue. The sobs quieted in her raw throat, and her eyes squeezed painfully shut, finding no more tears to shed. After a few strangled hiccups, the weight of her frozen despair dragged Werond to the oily floor like a mountain tied around her soul – a mountain built up by regrets that she knew she’d never truly shed.

“Nor do you deserve to.”

A silvery voice rang out into the void, causing Werond to jerk as though she’d been opened from throat to navel; she instinctively covered her head with her hands and curled up once more, only for the voice to ring out again, the oleaginous ground trembling in its wake.

“Should you have a speck of dignity left within that shattered soul, you will stand and face me, Werond Torohar. I will not accept anything less.”

Werond gasped as a bolt of fear tore through her body, worse than the fear she’d felt just moments before; despite every fiber of her being willing her to remain curled in despair, there was a resonance to the voice that commanded Werond’s attention, forcing her to obey.

Uncurling stiff legs, chest still heavy, Werond planted her hands onto the oily ground and slowly shoved herself up, another wave of dizziness welcoming her as she staggered to her feet, forcing her to clutch at her head in a vain effort to halt the spinning. When the vertigo finally subsided, Werond let her unseen hands fall to her waist as she sluggishly pulled her head up.

She would have gasped had her throat the capacity.

Towering over Werond, silhouetted against the void by a bright, silvery light, was a giant of an elf; twice the height of Werond, she stood as bare as the day she was born, slender body sculpted like marble, without a hint of flaws or imperfections, ethereally beautiful and utterly breath taking; her skin was dark and smooth like polished obsidian, radiant in the light; her hair was a glorious stream of white that flowed well past her knees, drifting gently in an unseen breeze; her eyes were a brilliant shimmering blue, portals to the bluest skies above, glowing within the void, and boring a hole through Werond.

Werond found herself unable to tear her gaze away, so struck was she by the unearthly beauty that radiated before her, despite the fear in the back of her mind urging her to do so.

“Truthfully,” The elf said, melodious voice echoing through the void. “of all who I have appeared to, you are by far the least deserving.

“W-what?” Werond met the elf’s gaze, strangely familiar. “Who are you, wha-”

“My name is of no concern for the likes of you.” The elf – no, the Drow, Werond realized with a start – spat the word out as though it pricked her tongue. “Who I am, however, is different.”

The Drow spread her hands before Werond, long hair drifting forward, stray ends wrapping about her legs. “I am the warden to my people who exist upon the surface – I am their guiding light in their darkest times – I am the mother whom they have been denied for so long – I grace them with the love their hearts so desperately yearn for, and in return, I receive their worship – and when they die, I will lead them to a place deserving of their souls, where they may finally rest, free of the Spider’s grasp.” The Drow cocked her head. “Your kind have no use for me, and likewise, I have nary a use for your kind. Thus, my presence is not known to any pantheon you hold dear, nor do I wish it to be. My name thus is unknown to one such as yourself, and I will not speak it in a place such as this, least I attract undesired attention.”

A numinous shiver torn down Werond’s spine – the realization of who, or what, stood before her.

“You’re –” She croaked.

“A god to you,” The Drow yanked the words from Werond’s mouth. “a deity in proper terms. One you have very little right to converse with. It would behoove you to keep that within your mind.”

Werond’s knees began to wobble, competing with the frozen fear lodged within her chest, both eager to pull her back down to the oily nothingness underfoot.

“A-am I to be punished by you?” Werond asked, wrapping her arms about herself. “I-I know that people w-who take…there’s a place in the Hells for people like me. Or at least –”

“Were you not listening?” The Drow asked, like mother to disobedient child. “I aid my children and their allies when they have fallen into their darkest hours; I do not seek out punishments against those who commit them transgressions. But taken into account all of your crimes against my charge, I would dutifully – nay, happily find the appropriate punishment for a soul as stained as your own.”

“Y-your charge?” Werond asked.

The Drow’s eyes softened.

“My charge.” She said softly. “My ward. The one I’ve gazed upon since she was born beneath my moon, so many leagues beneath the surface, and held near to my heart ever since. The life I’ve watched for its entire existence, nary a speck on the grand scale of this world, but my obsession, nevertheless. The child I love as though she were my own…”

The softness fled from her eyes; Werond cringed as naked anger filled those brilliant pools, the Drow’s gaze piercing through her once more.

“The one you have so willfully endangered – brought into the fold of untold danger, all because of your wanton desire for companionship. We would stand here for a millennium, and I would yet scratch the surface of my disgust for your actions.”

Shame trickled through Werond, warm against the ice within her. “Serena…” She whispered, throat tightening.

Like a bolt of lightning, the Drow was upon her, towering over Werond with eyes aflame and hair whipping in a now violent wind.

“You have no right to say her name!” Werond flinched as the Drow’s voice rung painfully in her ears. “Not after every sin you’ve committed against her, not after the pain you willingly inflicted by pulling her down a path she should have never traveled!”

“I-” Werond said, hands raised to shield her face.

“SILENCE!”

Fire erupted within Werond’s chest, searing through her instantly, burning her arms, igniting her throat, strangling her cries of pain as she collapsed to her knees. Sweat poured from her body, evaporating as her skin sizzled, her blood boiling within her veins, her screams twisting into horrible gurgles as the flames erupted up and out of her throat, a stream of silver that blinded her and seared the blackness of the void only to split in half and come roaring back down a raging inferno that consumed her and burned her body to the finest ash –

Only for everything to vanish within a heartbeat, pain and flames gone, their only trace the memory of what Werond had felt not a second ago.

Werond’s eyes almost bulged from their sockets as she hugged herself and hunched forward, unable to calm her gasps and moans. Somehow, her despair had grown colder, leaving her a shivering, trembling mess.

She was vaguely aware of the goddess that still towered over her, voice now measurably calm.

“Not often do I lash out in rage.” She said, her voice resuming its silvery cadence. “I will do better to restrain myself. But mayhap now you understand a sliver of my anger for the harm you’ve brought upon my charge. Mayhap now you realize the consequences your actions should bring upon your soul.”

“I-I…” Werond struggled to speak through chattering teeth, through the absolute cold that filled her body, and through the terror of inevitably experiencing that pain again. “I know h-how much I’ve wronged her…I-I…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I know I deserve it.”

“Look at me, Werond Torohar.”

Werond’s eyes reopened, and her head snapped up at the tone of a familiar order; the Drow stared at her with eyes vacant of rage, filled now with only a calm colder than the ice Werond felt within her.

“You believe yourself to be aware of the pain you’ve brought upon Serena Lash? You believe this lie that you’ve etched upon your heart? Speak truthfully, Werond Torohar, for your actions say otherwise.”

“My actions –”

“Have been nothing save abhorrent from the moment you laid eyes upon her.” The Drow frowned deeply, though her twisted face still retained its ethereal beauty. “Your wanton lust guided your hands and dictated your actions with no regard as to how she would receive it – her nervousness made her an easy mark and you exploited it eagerly. She fell for you the second you made your intentions known, wrapped about your finger like the tautest string, which did nothing save fill you with utter satisfaction. Do you deny it?”

“N-no…” Werond stammered. “But it –”

“Became more than that – I’m all too aware that you fell for her just as she did you. How could you not, given the life you’ve led up until this point? You’ve lost so many who were or claimed to be close to you, fell to so many hardships that you’d convinced yourself that a soul such as yours would never find hope again. Your lust was nothing but a distraction to it all, and that gradually growing love caught you unaware, but by then, it was too late. You were stuck just as she was. And yet, despite knowing the hardships placed upon the veritable hell that you existed in, you pulled Serena Lash in anyways – pulled her in until just the thought of letting her go pained you worse than any of the hardships you delt. And thus, you did everything within your power to keep that life away from her – it was only natural for you, to hide your life from those you cared for.

“Are you aware of the pain you’ve brought her, because of that selfish decision – your attempts at shielding her from the truth that you lived? Serena gave herself entirely unto you and you spat upon her actions by keeping her in the dark – an action taken, in your eyes, to protect her. You knew full well the consequences of bringing Serena further and further into your life, and you did everything within your power to keep the truth from her. And what did that bring you? Frustration from the woman you claimed to love. You shattered her heart when you declared that there wasn’t a thing she could do to help, a choice that haunted you to this very day.”

“I-I know…” Werond stammered, unable to stop her tears from falling, unable to stop the sobs that clawed their way up her throat. “I t-tried –”

“To right those wrongs?” The Drow continued, again ripping the words from Werond’s mouth. “I know of your attempts to assuage the guilt that plagued you, only for your efforts to worsen the situation – a fact you knew all too well. You pulled Serena out of the dark and into further peril by exposing who you truly were, along with the forces that made your life a living hell. You knew, from the moment that Serena begged to understand what plagued you so, that, should you tell her, she’d go beyond the dedication she already had, and sell her soul to you – out of the selfless desire to aid the woman she loved. You knew it was to happen – you expressed the sentiment yourself many a times – yet you still pulled back the curtain on your life. But what could you have done? You were stuck, after all – leave her in the dark and be eaten away by your own guilt or shine a light upon your life and be consumed by the knowledge of the peril you’ve brought upon her.

“Are you proud of the path you chose, Werond Torohar?”

A pained gasp escaped Werond’s lips; she fought against the sobs that racked her body, her vision blurring as she hung her head, her arms wrapping about her trembling body – all in vain against the bleeding of her heart.

The god clucked her tongue.

“I suppose that question has already been answered, hasn’t it?” She said. “Your suicide was more than enough.”

“Stop!” Werond screamed, ripping her head up, feeling the burning pain across her throat once more. “P-please! I-I know! I –”

“You do not.” The Drow said. “If you did, you wouldn’t be stuck in a place such as this.” The goddess leaned forward, her hair whipping in the unseen, unfelt breeze. “Do not mistake my words for unjust cruelty, Werond Torohar – I have not come here to torment you, despite the thoughts that bubble in your mind. But you have shown a startling dissonance for your actions, one that forces my hand to explain it all to you – not for your own benefit, but for the benefit of the child I love.”

The Drow goddess straightened up, her hair settling behind her, the ends curling slightly. When she spoke, her voice was even, and her eyes shimmered with an emotion that Werond couldn’t grasp even if she wanted to, her body so racked with sobs and frozen pain.

“You foretold the future, Werond Torohar, that day of the tournament.” She said. “Because of your actions – your desire, your love, your decisions – you have endangered Serena Lash and mired her in events that will threaten her very existence. You wrapped the noose around her neck, and despite your best intentions, Serena Lash has gladly kicked away the chair for you. You have taken her life just as you took your own.”

Something within Werond broke.

Her body moved independently as her mind was torn asunder; Werond blinked and found her head pressed against the oily ground, arms barely supporting her, body jerking as a single, massive sob tore through her and fled out her lips, rending the void with a keening that pierced her ears and ruptured the remains of her heart. Werond wailed until her lungs gave out, blood flowing up from her raw throat and into her mouth, its iron taste choking her like the familiar iron grip of those who ruled her. Gurgling, sputtering, panic slashing through her chest, Werond shoved her head off the oily ground with trembling, burning arms –

And was met with the oily reflection of a woman with nothing more to live for, an expression etched across her face that bespoke the gaping hole that now lay where her soul once had.

She did not stare at that face – with its gummed-up eyes, strange pale skin, or the blood that flowed from a mouth that could only scream, teeth stained red. Werond simply collapsed back into the oil, her legs sliding out from under her, eyes squeezed shut, a final keening sob escaping her lips, as her exhausted despair became all too much to bear.

She had no understanding of how long she lay against the cold void; moments could have been hours, and hours moments, but at some point – still too soon for her leaden body – the goddess raised her voice, echoing softly throughout the void.

“Rise to your feet, Werond Torohar. You do not have the time for despair.”

A moment passed before she followed the order, her body taking time to respond. It almost seemed to act on its own, craving the familiarity of an order while her mind struggled to piece itself back together, if such a feat were even possible. Werond was vaguely aware of getting back to her knees before her body halted, too exhausted to continue, chin tucked against her chest. She should have felt surprised when a hand gently cupped her chin and raised her head, but as her eyes met the Drow’s, kneeled before her, Werond found that her body had no capacity to feel such an emotion – or any, in her current state.

“You think me heartless.” The goddess whispered. “I speak of no intention to punish you, yet my words rend an irreparable hole within you. But they are worth hearing. You cannot continue this façade, of ignoring the consequences of your actions, of putting stock into another who will surely make everything alright. Better the hammer to shatter you now so that you may reforge the pieces anew – with the knowledge of your sins, and the strength to right them.”

Werond blinked, the effort exhausting, and opened her mouth, equally exhausting, and asked hoarsely, “Right…them? But –”

“You are dead, yes.” The Drow said. “But I cannot have you slipping away on me. She’s only seen the magic once and has failed far too many times for it to succeed traditionally. But she will get it right, should we give her enough time.”

“W-what…?”

The goddess that held her chin looked beyond Werond; she narrowed her eyes and dropped her hand – Werond was barely able to keep her chin up in its absence – then spoke, her voice at its usual silvery tone.

“Despite everything you’ve done,” Her eyes flicked back to Werond. “despite the harm you’ve done to her, despite the peril you’ve placed her in, Serena Lash loves you…unconditionally. Adores you, even. She is quick to forgive every unjust action you’ve committed against her, and every fiber of her being – her very soul – craves nothing more than to aid you, to hold you, lie beside you…to love you. I could lay forth the truth that I have torn you with and she would deny every fact, out of nothing more than the desire to defend you. I…”

Shock sparked to life within Werond’s chest as the goddess’s words died in her throat, shimmering eyes turning glassy – two orbs of brilliant, watery blue.

“I felt her shatter when you took your life, Werond.” The Drow said, in a voice not unlike her own. “It’s why I came. The horror that poured forth from her, I…”

Her eyes hardened, and the deity returned.

“Why?” She asked. “Tell me, from within that gaping hole inside of you, why does she love you so, Werond Torohar?”

The Drow stared through her and Werond found herself unable to look away. Despite the exhaustion that burned through her body, her mouth began to move on its own, but the words that poured out, Werond knew, were the absolute truth.

“We’ve been lonely for so long.” She said, voice as raw as her throat. “I didn’t expect to find a companion in her from the start, but…she found one in me. And the more she clung to me, the more time I spent with her…I-I realized that her wanting to help me was…real.” The backs of her eyes began to burn, her voice a whisper. “It’s been so long since I had someone like that, I didn’t want to let her go. I couldn’t let her ago…despite everything I knew would happen. I hate that she forgives me so easily for everything I’ve done, but…I don’t think Serena would know what to do if I was gone, and that…”

Werond snapped her mouth shut, for she knew that to finish that sentence would bring nothing but another shuddering collapse.

The Drow leaned in, her eyes narrowed.

“You say all that after taking your own life, right before her eyes?” She asked, sending a lance of guilt through Werond. “You say all of that when you witnessed the horror you inflicted upon her with a single action? How do you justify that?”

“I already told her,” Werond said. “I’m a coward. There wasn’t a way out – kill her with my hand or watch Jarlaxle do it. It didn’t matter the outcome, she’d be gone all the same, and I…couldn’t live with that. I…” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “I can’t live anymore without Serena. I couldn’t do it. I can’t do it. I…I can’t. If she’s gone then…I can’t exist in this world anymore.”

“A hasty decision that destroyed Serena Lash worse than anything that could have been inflicted upon her.”

“I…” Werond hung her head, voice dying to a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“Apologize to her, never to me – she will accept it far easier than I ever will.” She paused. “Know this, Werond Torohar – I will always watch over her, and her friends, should aiding them further her goals. I will be watching you as well. Keep that in mind for whatever the future holds for your shattered soul.” Another pause. “They truly haven’t a clue what to do with my gifts, but I suppose it is working.”

Werond blinked and looked back up at the goddess before her; she had removed her gaze from Werond, however, a small splash of orange reflecting in her otherwise shimmering blue eyes. Werond frowned, twisted her head around –

And gasped.

Behind them, the blackness of the void had been torn away, a tear in the fabric of the inky space, where now a small flame bled through; suspended by its own reality, it illuminated the darkness with a bright orange glow, utterly alien within the otherwise empty landscape.

No sooner did Werond lay her eyes upon it did she feel the flame’s pull, a fervent energy that poured forth and filled the space around it. Even from a distance she felt its hooks, sunk into her flesh and urging her forward with a desperation almost tangible.

Werond shivered, not from the frozen hole within her, but from the skin prickling heat that spread across her body, embers of numinous anticipation igniting within her chest.

She twisted back around, questions upon her lips, and jumped when only the blackness of the void met her. The goddess was gone.

Alone within the darkness, Werond looked back at the flame that hung in place; it flickered, brushed by some unseen breeze, carrying with it what Werond swore to be the murmur of a word she couldn’t make out, but spoken in a voice that sounded familiar. Body beginning to thaw, Werond shoved herself to her feet, and made her way over to the only bit of color within the void.

Dizziness smashed against her immediately; bile rose in her throat as she realized that, instead of moving forward, the void contracted around her, physically pulling the space where the flame burned closer to her. Those discomforts burned away as the flame grew closer, however, and by the time it hung before Werond’s chest – close enough to touch – a familiar warmth had spread across her body, as though someone had wrapped their arms tightly about her, clutching at Werond with all their being. She laid a hesitant hand upon her chest and felt it burn with the heat of her skin – a heat that felt all too familiar.

The flame flickered again, and with it came the word she’d heard before, whispered then like the rustling of fabric, spoken now in a pleading voice that Werond knew all too well.

“Please.”

Werond reached out and grasped the flame.

It flickered once more, then exploded.

Werond screamed as she was flung backwards, landing roughly on her back, sliding slightly against the oily ground; for a single moment, her vision filled with a brilliant light, and when it cleared –

Beautiful, brilliant flames stretched across the vast nothingness into an unfathomable eternity, illuminating the illimitable expanse like the sun rising from the heavens. Blessed by the heat that poured down from above and up from below and every which way between, Werond felt herself again – felt her heart hammering in her chest, felt the blood pumping through her veins, felt the sweat upon her skin – as the flames burned away the void and with it, its infectious nothingness.

A burst of flame erupted into existence above Werond’s prone body and careened down upon her, smashing into her chest; she let loose a cry of surprise as a weight pushed against her, solid and familiar, holding her in place.

That ball of flame burned upwards suddenly, twisting and whirling, until a pair of fiery arms – white hot against the burning orange – manifested out the sides, reaching out to grasp Werond’s face; they burned upward and out, the outline of a chest igniting into existence, along with a head, torso, legs – all coalescing into the white-hot form of a person, now hunched over Werond.

She watched captivated as the figure slowly lowered its head, closer and closer, until it was pressed against her own.

Massive strands of flame – bright ribbons of burning white – exploded from the back of the figure, just as Werond’s head caught fire.

She screamed but felt no pain as the fire burned out and down to her chest, devouring her arms and legs, covering her utterly until her very existence was naught but the flames that burned from her and the figure that held her in its desperate grasp.

That voice echoed in Werond’s ears, one that she’d thought she’d never hear again.

“Please.”

Tears burning in her eyes, Werond reached up and wrapped her hands around the figure’s waist and gave herself entirely to the flames.

A burst of white exploded from the figure, smashing into Werond, filling her vision with its brilliant light, taking her consciousness along with it.