Icicle Isle Quest: Part 1

[leliana]

Leliana

baby, when I'm in your arms, I can make honest sense of love and war's alarms

She does not hesitate when she hears this call.

She had not hesitated the last time, although her purpose had been different than those who had converged upon Pangea, answering the dark god’s call for death, and she does not hesitate again. The sickness still rattles in her bones, it still blossoms in her throat, and she knows better than most what it will take to drive this from her veins. She cannot heal it on her own. Cress cannot heal it. Tiphon cannot. It will require a magic greater than any that they have to offer, which means that she cannot heal it from others.

If she is to truly bring comfort during these troubled times, she will need to find a cure.

So she does not hesitate.

She simply lifts her head, frowning at the border, before turning back to her precious family. She gathers her girls close to her, pressing a kiss into their skin, sweeping her lips across Vulgaris’ cheek giving them one last look before taking a running start and launching herself into the sky once more. She cannot stay behind if there is hope on the horizon; she cannot stay and let others do the dirty work.

The flight to the Mountain is quick and she is not terribly winded when she lands, the cool breeze sweeping across her elegant neck, lifting her crimson mane. She remains quiet near the back, watching with intent hazel eyes as the fae steps forward. He is hard and unforgiving and she wants to apologize, even though she has no blood on her hands. Instead, she just frowns, looking at the ground and feeling a bitter sadness sweep through her, the loss of Rhonen still seared into her very bones.

When he releases them, stamping his hoof, her gifts are stripped from her.

There is a small cry in the back of her throat when she reaches for her healing and feels nothing in return. Her eyes are wide when she glances up, searching the fae for answers that do not come. Terror grips her, races through her, when she realizes that she has nothing. Her wings are gone, and her body feels strangely light without them, but it is the loss of her healing that packs the largest punch.

It is as much of her as the very air she breathes.

It is the reason her sister is alive, the reason they survived curled on this very ground.

But she doesn’t protest, she simply swallows and nods, her fine head turning toward the North, where the Isle rests beyond Hyaline. The others around her begin to splinter, not pausing to begin the journey and she straightens her shoulders, beginning to pick her way down the mountain with hesitant steps.

The journey is slow—much slower than she is used to traveling.

There are no wings to assist, nothing to drive her forward faster, and without her healing to feed her small bits of relief, she can feel the ache of her illness more profoundly. Her cough returns, blood crusting on the corners of her mouth, and her breathing is labored, which keeps her from running like some of the others. Instead, she walks steadily, as quickly as she can, her stride purposeful.

She takes as straight of a path as possible, cutting through Hyaline, splashing her way through the shallowest part of the river that she can find, and then skirting the edge of Taiga. When she reaches the edge of the forest, the land beginning to bleed into the more coastal region of Nerine, she cuts straight to the water. She finds a path that slopes down a forgiving cliff, and she walks it slowly, her head hanging low so that she can focus on each and every step. She stumbles, once, and she notices with startling clarity just how narrow the path is. Several rocks skitter before her, and she swallows the fear.

She cannot be afraid—not now.

She must be brave, for Sabbath, for Adna, for Vulgaris, for Dovev.

Bolstered by thoughts of her family, of her loved ones, she makes her way to the beach, the ground turning soft beneath her hooves, and then to the ocean. The feathers on her legs begin to grow wet, clinging to her legs as she steps further and further into the tide. She fights to keep her own worry under control as she continues to wade into the water, finally letting go and trusting in the tide.

Her hooves leave the ground and her legs begin to churn underneath her as she pushes herself forward into the simmering sea. The waves are not strong today, but they are strong enough, and she has to fight to keep her path straight. She lifts her neck as high as she can as she swims, trying to keep the water from her lungs, but there are several times when the tide knocks her to the side and she swallows the brine.

She coughs as she swims, temperature dropping the closer she gets to their destination.

Her muscles ache. Her lungs protest. Her nose burns from the saltwater she’s inhaled. But she doesn’t stop swimming. Cannot stop swimming. She ignores the familiar exhaustion that crawls through the back of her mind, the darkness that lingers there, as if it could tempt her to simply give into it—to simply give up. Part of her wants to curse the faeries for taking the gifts that would make this trip bearable, but she understands their dilemma, understands the lesson that they are trying to teach.

And so she simply accepts it.

She simply continues to swim, training her mind on her loved ones back home and the importance of what she was trying to do. She continues to remind herself of it, pushing forward until her legs touch ground once more. Relieved, she pulls herself up, the water draining off her sides as she emerges from the ocean. Immediately, she begins to shiver, brows drawing together as she moves further inland.

She cannot imagine the Isle is pleasant anytime of year—not for a girl raised in the Tephra heat—but it is made worse by the water still dropping off her sides. For a second, she pauses, forcing her mind to work past the initial pain, the initial discomfort. When she is ready, she opens her eyes and begins to move forward. There is nothing she can do but see it through until the end.

She coughs again, blood dripping from one nostril.

She needs to see this through.

but there's something primal underneath and it drives this nothingness I seek