I want to be with those who know secret things
or else alone
or else alone
Asterion had steeled himself for horror, and so when wonder came instead at first he fought the feeling.
It has been so easy to forget the way magic once made him feel - like all the stories he’d been told as a boy were true, like anything could happen, like dreams could be pulled from sleep and borne to waking hours.
Again and again, Novus has taught him otherwise. First it stripped his magic altogether, then it gave him heroes who abused their gifts. When the summons had first come from the gods, his heart had leapt, a bird with the sun on its wings - and here, too, he was proven a fool. Every miracle turned to regret, ever wish melted like ash on his tongue.
He doesn’t know why now is different. But as morning comes at last - as they all wait together like a held breath and the dawn that comes feels like the first one the world ever saw - the bay’s heart beats with something more than dread. Cirrus is with him now, perched steadfast on his withers, and those he loves surround him, and the breeze is fresh and calm.
We face this alone, Leto had said when he sought her out as she cast her bones. But Asterion does not feel alone, and there is no one else he would rather face whatever waits beyond that waiting sea than Isra, than Flora, than Fiona and Juniper and Eik and Moira and on and on and on. Maybe they will die, and die together. But oh, oh, he thinks they might yet live -
The king does not know who first realizes the island is gone. There is a whisper, a murmur, a shout through the crowd - the volcano has vanished, but there is a bridge. A bridge of gleaming, sloping, cooling lava in whorls and arches and everything strange. Not for the first time, Asterion thinks of the maze in Ravos, how wild the magic was, how strange. Then he had been weak, alone, a boy.
He is none of those things any longer. It feels easy as anything to step out onto the bridge.
Almost he is surprised it is firm beneath his feet. But oh, no fairy tale is complete without its path, and he follows the strange creation, not pausing long enough to study each fearful mystery. On and on he walks, until the cry of the sea-birds falls behind him (the only gull now is Cirrus, silent and wary on his back), surrounded by horses all doing the same. He wonders if he should warn them back - but the king is ready (perhaps too prepared) to call his magic to him, to use the sea as a barrier to keep the horses safe (as if safety is anything he can expect).
The ending grows stranger yet. Then fearsome things surface briefly from the water, monsters he cannot name, and his magic curls tighter around his heart, a fist about to strike. The air grows thick, but the endless blue has not changed since just after dawn; if time lives here it has changed its rules. Still Asterion walks, and does not tremble. Still he follows the narrow path, and almost smiles at each golden flower that whispers of Isra’s passing by.
At last there is the end. But the bay does not approach that strange wall, though he does not warn others away from it. The only flicker of fear he feels is watching them all touch it - Leto, and Thana, and Florentine too.
Instead he waits, and thinks how much better it feels to be ready to fight and die rather than do nothing and live.
Asterion.
STAFF EDIT***
@asterion has rolled a 3, and has been awarded +80 signos!
