Mine Folly

[Yvonne]

Shock and denial. Yvonne couldn’t believe her gaping eyes. She wouldn’t believe them. There was no way that this was happening. Not a chance. One moment Lilly had been examining the necromancer’s staff, that sinister object which had drawn the dark elven inventor here and Yvonne along with her. The next moment Lilly was laying upon the stone, prone. Her new friend had withered before her silver eyes while clutching the spell focus, letting it fall where it may and collapsing to the ground thereafter. She was hurt. It was bad. She wasn’t dead though, right? She couldn’t be dead.

Yvonne hurried to her side the second the shock of it all had begun to break. She tossed off her backpack with a thud, ripped it open and rummaged through it, looking - finding her herb kit. The grey dwarf seized it with both of her hands and searched through it, looking, looking - trying to think of which herb would be most beneficial for mending death.

No! She not be dead. She be sleeping. I need a herb ta wake her. I need something ta rouse her awake. No, lavender and passionflower be for a sleeping tonic. Valerian sprigs and verdant root too! No! No, where it be? It be here somewhere. I know it is. I know it. I-- yes! This be it! Bridewort! It be having a very strong, sweet smell. It might work! It might save her! Try it! Try!

The apothecary brought the creamy white flowers close to the dead woman’s nose, held them beneath her nostrils thinking she might react to her sense of smell. When it didn’t immediately have an effect she began to wave the herb back and forth to stimulate movement of the scent. It wasn’t working. Yvonne crumpled the petals inside her trembling fist, reopened her hand to a burst of fragrance that escaped into the air. Even she woke up over it. The herbalist woke up to the fact that Lillian Svalesin was, in fact, deceased. One last attempt with the crushed flowers, rubbing them against her nostrils to be sure. It still wasn’t working so she threw them in disgust.

Pain and guilt. Yvonne suddenly felt like she’d been bludgeoned with a war hammer. The pain wracked her middle, deep in her chest and she keeled over Lilly’s corpse, shaking her softly to rouse her back to life. Softly because she didn’t wish to hurt her, having so much respect for her friend. Her heart felt like it had ruptured in her breast. The little one cried out in suffering, tears pooling in her eyes and spilling down her black cheeks, spattering upon her dead companion below her.

“We never should have come here. I never-- never should have agreed ta this. I-- I shouldn’t have encouraged ye,” Yvonne admitted with a trembling voice. “Why did that death-stick need ta be so important ta ye? Why didn’t I tell ye no, we not be pursuing that wild goose chase rumour? I tell everyone else what ta do! Why didn’t I tell ye what ta do! We could have easily avoided this if we stayed inside tha Graceful Bark. I should have shouted ye another drink and gotten ta know ye better. Now I’ll never get tha chance.”

Anger and bargaining. Eyes of silver drifted toward the necromantic staff resting in the back of the hollow. Yvonne’s gaze leveled on the source of Lillian’s death and all the pain and misery she was suffering. It was a weapon designed for nothing more than killing and murder.

She did not remember walking toward the staff. She simply found herself standing over it, looking down at it. Her black fingers curled around the oaken shaft and clenched, squeezed it with all of her might with the hope the oak would shatter. Yvonne stared into the swirling smoke of darkness that whispered through the gem though she dare not touch it herself. Instead she looked upon it with such… such hatred. Never before had she hated something as much as this black gem.

“YE GIVE HER BACK TA ME! YE HEAR ME!? HOW DARE YE SNATCH AWAY HER SOUL!? BY WHAT RIGHT DO YE TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME! GIVE HER BACK TA ME! GIVE HER BACK! I WON’T LET YE KEEP HER IN YER SOUL PRISON! YE WILL RELEASE HER BACK TA ME OR I’LL BREAK YE INTO A THOUSAND PIECES AND LET HER OUT MYSELF! I’LL BREAK YE! I’LL DO IT,” Yvonne raged at the top of her lungs, screaming every word and still managing to emphasize appropriately. If the black gem had been a person they’d have let Lilly’s soul go. If there was anything an inanimate jewel could do about a dead person it would have done it. Alas, the gem was not a person. The jewel did nothing.

“Please send her back to me,” Yvonne whispered, and once more, “please.”

Loneliness and reflection. Yvonne breathed heavily, so worked up with fury she didn’t know what to do with it all. Her voice wouldn’t help her here. Her screaming wouldn’t help Lilly. The gem wouldn’t listen. There was no response. There was no reply. Her yelling ceased and there was nothing but deathly silence - not one but two corpses for company and neither of them had anything to say on the matter. The silence was overwhelming. She sank into it herself, tears still flowing freely though she couldn’t feel them any longer. She never destroyed the gem after all.

What have I done? How did I let this happen? Why didn’t I do something ta protect ye? Yer life it be! Yer life in me hands and I did nothing but stand here and watch ye die. What kind of a friend does that? Ye helped me with me fears, put me above yerself and I let ye fall. I be so ashamed. I be so sorry. If there be something I can do, anything, I will do it ta save ye. Please, tell me what I be supposed ta do. Please, give me some kind of sign. I’ll do anything for ye.

Yvonne closed her eyes, tears falling once more.

The upward turn. When she opened them again her mind’s eye opened as well. The darkness of the hollow grave was illuminated. Dim, but floating through the darkness were strands of brightening colour. Particles with shimmering tails defied gravity, gradually drifting through the air around her. They were like the glow worms inhabiting home, deep in the depths of her home caves. They were like glow bugs hovering over a swampy marshland in the middle of a peaceful night. Greens, browns and blues which the black void of the mine shaft receded from.

They were surreal. What were they?

Reconstruction and pushing through. Yvonne saw herself step out of herself. She was looking at the back of her own head, upon her straight black strands of hair and ashen-skinned shoulders. If she was before herself then who was she now? What was this out of body experience? What did it mean?

Yvonne watched herself raise her arms and extend her fingers out to the glow worms. She beckoned them to herself, brought them near. Greens and browns, earth and life; they were ushered toward Lillian’s body. They settled upon her corpse and planted themselves like seeds, brightening vividly and fading again as they entered her flesh. Blues trailed along behind them, healing water from the tunnel pond. They fell upon Lilly like rain drops, pitter pattering over her dark as night skin.

Her consciousness observed herself turn toward Lilly for one final act. As she turned she witnessed the glint in her own silver eyes, her own ghostly face in front of her. The silhouette raised one arm this time, her hand bringing together thumb and pointer finger in a picking, plucking motion - taking a single ember firefly from the light of Lilly’s light gem, a single spark. Her ghost cradled the ember in her hands and eventually brought it to the dark elf at her feet. She dispersed her hands over the resting place of Lilly’s heart, the firefly descending down and dancing like a candle flame over her chest. It slowly lost its light, the flame enfeebling as it too seared through her flesh... and then it was no more.

Acceptance and hope. Yvonne truly opened her eyes and could see all as it had been before. The lights had gone out save the light from Lilly’s gauntlet. Darkness had returned to the hollow grave. Two corpses - one of a stranger and one of a friend - and a wicked magical object held so tightly in her hands her knuckles were pale with lack of blood flow. Realizing she’d been gripping the death-stick tightly this entire time she let it clatter to the stone floor.

Nothing had changed. Everything was as it had been. She couldn’t explain what she had seen herself do. It didn’t make any sense to her. It didn’t really matter in the end, did it? It didn’t make a difference. Her friend Lillian Svalesin was still dead. Her mental lapse hadn’t helped her. The dark elf was still motionless, lifeless, a rag doll abandoned - her white hair strewn across her empty face. There had been such potential in this one, such promise, so much to look forward to throughout her unfolding story - but the story had been closed far too soon, the book of her life had been snapped shut…

…

…or had it?

Lilly gasped for air. The breath scared the living daylights out of Yvonne who jumped back-- and fell in the pond! The drow-dwarf mixed breed let out a squeal and caused a loud splash.