There was not enough power in her, even enthralled with her dehlar partner. Nor was there enough time, for the pulse in her head was growing stronger, heavier, threatening to shake her consciousness to pieces.
Don't touch her, Astarelle's fracturing mind cried as Crozius was swept from under her. The sand of her dagger, sacrificed to draw so little blood, hadn't returned to the hilt. Only a thin film of grit remained, tearing at her fingers instead of securing them.
As if it was a person -as if it was her abandoned temple-sister, left at home to assume all the duties of the runaway priestess- she hugged Crozius and felt for just a moment the warm skin and fluttering hair of awkward little Lisere. She had left behind so much responsibility for the poor girl to bear.
So Astarelle would bear her own, without complaint or regret, in an alien place to protect people she barely understood.
Sei Orlouge! she thought as loudly as she could, hoping to reach the fabled telepath, Clear your schedule. When this is over, we are going to have a talk.
Her mind reeled from the sending, spurring on the dizziness that seemed so much worse when she was prone. Yet, she found her feet, hoisted herself up on two legs of flesh and one of dehlar, and charged for Breaker in spite of the crashing tide. She left the ground through the force of Crozius' skyward sweep, but it was too steep, and gravity too strong. Even as she spun in the air, a fluttering brown leaf once more, she knew the wave would wash over her.
You danced beautifully, she bid adieu to her partner as her grip quaked, loosened, and broke. Crozius sliced through granite froth straight for where Breaker had perched so proudly, but Astarelle did not see the crescendo. Her body smeared across the blasted earth just in time for the wave to wash over. A thousand sharp weights pinned her. Air became a mass of dust, yearning to be solid once more and almost succeeding. In a thunderous rush almost as loud as her pounding heart, she was rolled, surrounded, and bur-
She did not utter her favorite curse. She did not even think it. She just chuckled against the granite debris that was her final breath.
How fitting.
Out of Character:
Fin