[Lomenár] An Unexpected Turn of Events

Ongoing storyline.


The wind was rustling through the leaves in the canopy far above her, and on any other day she would have found it restful... peaceful, even... but not tonight. She was prowling the confines of her room at the Sentinel bunkhouse like a distressed and caged animal, growing more agitated by the minute. Her hair was in a complete disarray due to the fact that she had run her hands through it repeatedly, as well as having returned to the nervous habit of tugging on her braid. Isil was lying on the floor, by the end of her bed, watching her every movement and Lomenár sensed a wave of worry from the great feline. She stopped mid-stride to look at her friend and attempt a smile, but it only came out as a twisted grimace.
"Oh, my moon, I'm so sorry... I know you're worried, but please, don't be..."
Another wave of concern from the great cat, and Lomenár's expression grew pained.
"I know... but this... I don't know... I can't seem to stop it or get rid of it. And it frightens me, Isil."
Lomenár suddenly rushed over to the cat and hugged her close, burying her face in Isil's fur. She took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of snow, pinecones and warm feline, trying to calm herself and her racing heart.
"I don't know what to do. I can't tell anyone, can't talk to anyone... not even my closest friend."
Lomenár closed her eyes and rested her cheek against the top of Isil's head.
"What would Nightborne think of me, if she knew? She would kill me, most assuredly..."

Lomenár sat back and released her chokehold on Isil and the great cat rested her head in Lomenár's lap. Lomenár trailed her fingers through Isil's fur, thinking hard. There must be some kind of solution to this problem, something she wasn't seeing. The most obvious one, as well as the easiest one, would be to run away of course. Running had always been her solution of choice before, whenever her troubles seemed too overwhelming, but she also knew that it wasn't a real option this time. This time her troubles would stubbornly follow and cling to her, and there would be nowhere to hide... because you couldn't truly hide from your own heart forever.

And that was the core of the issue, wasn't it? The signs had all been there, but she had refused to acknowledge them. And when she had thought herself safe, to finally be able to let it go, it had pounced on her quite unexpectedly. It was unsettling and frightening and all she wanted to do was to shield herself against it and against the hurt that would inevitably follow. But words had been exchanged and it had been made quite clear that there was no turning back now...

...and the most frightening thing of all was the fact that she didn't -want- to turn back. It went against -everything- she believed in, -everything- she had fought for throughout the years, but a part of her yearned for it. And that yearning was growing stronger and stronger with each passing day, slowly wearing down her resistance.

And wouldn't it be wonderful if she could just let go? Give in, and allow herself to feel? Acknowledge and accept the feelings that were threatening to shatter her and her world into a million tiny pieces?

"Quite simple really, beacuse I care for you."
The words had resounded within her mind for the last several hours and even though it didn't make any sense, she knew them to be true. It was there in the way he'd cared for her when she'd been hurt, it was there in the small signs of respect that he showed towards her and no one else... it was even there in the insults and angry looks that they exchanged on a daily basis.

Lomenár raised her head to stare out across Darnassus. Dawn was fast approaching and she should be sleeping already, but restful sleep had eluded her these past few days and she figured that tonight would be no different. She slowly got to her feet and walked over to the mirror that hung above the small sink and met the gaze of her own reflection. Her eyes were wide and their glow was a dim grey instead of their usual silver. Her skin was paler than usual, almost translucent, and the fresh scars across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose did nothing to help her appearance along. In short, she looked a complete mess. She wasn't a particularly vain person, but she couldn't help the small stab of worry and insecurity that shot through her upon looking at herself in the mirror. But she quickly stomped it down and tried for confidence instead. If he couldn't deal with her appearance, as well as her personality, then he wasn't worthy of her time anyway. She looked like the veteran that she was. She's seen countless battles in her time, and there would, without a doubt, be countless more before the Dark Aspect of Elune came to take her on her last journey. She sighed a bit wistfully at her reflection though before her gaze travelled to the necklace that hung around her throat.

The filigree made out of truesilver that spread out like a thin web around her neck was indeed a work of art and she didn't think that she'd ever worn, let alone owned, anything as fine and beautiful as that necklace. The large emerald in the centre hung low enough that it would be concealed by her armour by day, nestled securely a mere inch above her heart. Lomenár sighed and looked away from the mirror as she remembered how his fingers had carefully brushed through her hair to sweep it aside so that he could fasten the necklace around her neck. She'd held herself completely still, frozen, barely daring to breathe. Even though many years had passed since Lithior's death she was still uncomfortable with other people touching her... Nightborne being an exception to that rule, and it had taken years before Lomenár had been completely at ease with her. But the memory of his touch still brought an unexpected wave of warmth, and she felt her cheeks colour.

Lomenár sighed again, disgusted with herself, and turned her back to the mirror. She should at least try to sleep, perhaps tonight would be different. Perhaps she would be able to escape the dreams and the sense of foreboding that had haunted her sleep ever since the night in Winterspring. She slowly walked over to her bed and beckoned Isil to join her. The bed creaked a little under their combined weight, but Lomenár paid it no heed. She curled tight against Isil, one hand firmly nestled in her friend's fur. She lay there for several moments, her eyes wide open and staring up at the ceiling, before she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and let darkness wash over her.

Lomenár slept fitfully, tossing and turning violently enough that Isil was pushed off the bed. In sleep her hand found the emerald and closed around it, the stone warming to her touch, and she suddenly seemed to breathe and sleep a little easier.

The lake shone like a perfect silver mirror in the moonlight. There was a light breeze rustling through the canopy of the great tree close by. A few stray clouds were scattered across the starry sky, marring the otherwise perfect image. But Lomenár paid it no heed. The person that commanded her attention was standing right by the edge of the lake, a hand gently cradling the emerald around his neck and a thoughtful expression on his face. Her soft footfalls must have alerted him to her presence, for he turned around to face her. Lomenár approached him slowly, her fingers restlessly playing with the emerald around her own neck, and despite his small, yet warm, smile of welcome she felt wary.
"I must admit... You surprised me back there."
"How so?"
"I wasn't sure that you would accept my challenge, nor that you were such a dancer..." His voice was dripping with contempt, familiar but for the fact that it didn't quite reach his eyes... they still sparkled merrily, taking the edge off his words.
"Here I thought I was the one to make the great revelations tonight... and there you go, stealing my thunder."

Lomenár couldn't help but answer with the same coin. It was a game that they played effortlessly by now, a game that they'd played ever since the beginning... and it was also the only familiar thing she could cling to when her world had suddenly been turned on its head. She adopted an appropriate smirk of contempt and her voice was thick with venom when she spoke. But like with him, it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"You should have known that I rarely back down from a challenge, especially one offered by a mere highborne." She almost spat the words out, tilting her chin up in a proud manner.
"..and you're not the only one with secrets highborne. Besides, I couldn't turn away from a chance to steal your show."
"Mm... evidently not. Which is why I would like to ask for a re-match."

She stared at him for a brief moment. Hadn't they danced enough for one evening, in more ways than one? Had he called her here just to issue yet another challenge?
"Do you really think that you can best me?"
"I do indeed. Here, without an audience, where there is no need to hold back."
Lomenár narrowed her eyes at him and spoke very slowly, almost spacing the words out, as if she didn't quite believe what she was hearing.
"..you want to dance here? Now? Without music?"
In answer he waved his hand in an intricate pattern in the air, and a few seconds later she could hear a voice singing a-capella. The voice was seemingly coming from nowhere, or perhaps from all around them, and it was with some surprise that she identified it as his. He must have used a spell to capture himself singing at some point and Lomenár secretly marvelled at the concept, as well as at his voice. It was another piece of the puzzle that was him, a part of him she hadn't even known existed and it pleased her that he'd decided to share this with her tonight.

But despite this she hesitated when he stretched out his hand towards her. She knew that fear was flickering in her eyes like a beacon, betraying how nervous she was. But as she had said just moment before, she rarely backed down from a challenge... and besides, she'd already danced with him once tonight already... how different could it be? She took a deep breath and placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her close and sweep her into the dance.

When they had danced earlier, at the Dance of the White Stag, every move they'd made had been a challenge, a desperate need to prove one's own superiority over the other as well as a play for dominance. This dance, however, was a different one entirely. There was no clear lead this time, instead they moved simply by feel and intuition. If one of them wanted to turn in a certain direction the other would follow. There was no need for words and strangely enough their bodies moved together as if they'd been dance partners for centuries, rather than having just danced together for the first time that very same night.

At the beginning he'd captured her gaze with his and as the dance moved on, she found herself unable to look away. The intensity between them was almost magnetic, helplessly drawing them towards each other and keeping their gazes locked, golden eyes staring down into silver. But, for some reason she didn't mind, even though it did make her slightly uncomfortable at first. But the way his golden eyes glittered in the moonlight was exceptionally beautiful to her and almost made her hold her breath in awe, and she felt herself blush a little, suddenly uncharacteristically shy, when she noticed the small, warm and affectionate smile that was playing across his lips as he looked at her.

They moved slowly and gracefully, almost tenderly, together across the grass. Lomenár had moved stiffly at first, not entirely comfortable with being this close to him, but as the music slowly began to weave its spell around her she relaxed more and more in his grasp until they moved smoothly and effortlessly together. They whirled around in the shadows cast by the tree, their movements akin to the soft wind, or a falling leaf, and eventually they made their way out into the open, moonlight streaming down on the pair of them and lending an almost unnatural and ghostly silver sheen to both their forms.

Eventually their slow dance relaxed Lomenár enough that she dared lean in and rest her head against his shoulder, as well as wrap one arm around his waist. In response he rested his head atop hers and she could feel his soft breaths against her hair. The dance slowly came to a halt and Lomenár raised her head from his shoulder to look up at him.
"So... if this was a re-match, who won?" She kept her voice low, close to a murmur.
"I believe both of us did..."

Their hunt that night had been successful. They had vanquished a large group of lesser demons, as well as the warlock who had summoned them, and they’d managed to get their hands on the warlock’s scrolls… but if those scrolls held plans, orders or the recipe for zhevra pie was yet to be discovered. They had parted ways with Aerandyr in Astranaar and then she and Theraluin had ridden together on her hippogryph back to Dolanaar. Theraluin had been a bit worse for wear after his run-in with the orc warlock, and Lomenár kept glancing worriedly his way where she sat opposite him at the table. She was supposed to be cleaning her armour, since it was covered in dirt, demon blood and some yet to be identified goo and he was clearly absorbed in trying to decipher the scrolls that they had found.

Theraluin was frowning deeply and had, what looked to be, some kind of orcish-darnassian translator in front of him that he kept glancing at every so often. Lomenár was only making a token effort at getting her armour cleaned, since she found watching him a lot more interesting… and she was also worried about him still. Her heart had almost stopped in her chest when the warlock had grabbed him by the neck and almost choked the life out of him, but luckily for Theraluin Lomenár had been quick to act and the warlock had died swiftly after that with an arrow through his heart. But if she had hesitated just a few more seconds, Theraluin might have been dead. So Lomenár found her gaze drawn to him, alert for any signs that the orc’s attack had damaged him permanently in some way.

But so far he seemed to be just badly shaken and was giving the scrolls in front of him his undivided attention, to Lomenár’s dismay. After she had been staring at him for a while he finally looked up from his work with the scrolls and met her gaze.
“Other than the warlock managing to catch me by surprise, things went considerably well.”
Lomenár gave him a small smile before replying.
“Indeed... it went better than I could have hoped. I am glad Aerandyr decided to follow us after all…” She leaned forward over the table and pointed with her cleaning rag towards the scrolls, her rag dripping greenish water and dirt onto the table.
“…find anything of interest in there by the way?”
“I am not sure. This translator seems…incomplete…or perhaps it is written in some kind of code. So far the few things that have made sense have been an order for this 'Krazzarian', presumably the warlock, and something about the blood of the Red dragonflight.”
Theraluin’s brow furrowed into an even deeper frown and his expression darkened visibly for a moment before he continued onto the much safer subject of Aerandyr’s appearance.
“…and yes indeed, his aid was quite welcome. I’m glad that he could keep our…initial encounter…outside the field of conflict.”
Lomenár felt her lips pull into a smirk and she rolled her eyes at him.
“Hrm...yes...you were both behaving like children. You're both old enough to know better than to indulge in pissing contests.”
To emphasize her point she waved her cleaning rag around and it sent droplets of greenish water, dirt and goo flying across the table, splattering the scrolls as well as Theraluin. In response he gave her a scalding look, but the hint of mirth in his voice as he spoke betrayed his true mood.
“Be careful with that! I'd hate for these documents to get ruined this early! Also, you should be much more careful with that vile fluid, it could poison you if you don’t handle it with care.”
Theraluin proceeded to take out a small handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped the goo off himself and the scrolls. Lomenár just snorted at him and muttered something indistinguishable, but very uncomplimentary, about the uselessness of delicate male sensibilities and resumed her own cleaning, dipping the dirty rag into the bowl of fresh water and watching with interest as the water turned a murky green.

But Theraluin was apparently not satisfied with just her snort and kept prodding her verbally, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Wave that rag around some more while you're at it, just to drive the point home…”
Lomenár looked up from her cleaning and she kept her voice perfectly calm and level as she replied.
“If you're not careful, I might very well toss this rag into your face. That should drive my point home, don't you think?”
It was with great satisfaction that she noticed him narrowing his eyes, apparently not sure if she’d just said the words in jest or threatened him for real.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I wouldn’t? Watch me!”
In one graceful move she leapt onto the table, lunging towards him and brandishing the dripping rag like a weapon, the scrolls and other papers on the table being shoved aside of crumbled underneath her. Theraluin, sadly, didn’t even flinch, but his eyes widened slightly in alarm and surprise. Lomenár gave him a feral smile and waved the rag threateningly close to his face, keeping her voice very mild and sweet.
“Now say that again…”
“You.Wouldn’t.Dare.” His voice was low and his tone ominous and Lomenár snarled viciously at the challenge. So he thought that she wouldn’t dare? Well, wasn’t he in for a surprise…

She didn’t give even the merest hint of warning, in either her body language or voice, as she quickly darted out with a hand and grabbed a firm hold of his long silvery hair and held him still while she deftly planted the wet and gooey cloth on his face. Theraluin only had a second to react and close his eyes and mouth before his face was covered in water, demon blood and goo and Lomenár let out a tinkling laugh of delight as she saw him wrinkle his nose disapprovingly in disgust. But it was in that moment of sweet victory that Theraluin managed to catch her off guard and retaliate, returning the favour with interest. Lomenár turned her face away at the last instant, to prevent the goo from getting into her eyes, hissing in surprise as the cloth was rubbed over her face.
“Ew… now look at what you’ve done!” Lomenár opened her eyes and glared at Theraluin. Theraluin glared just as angrily back at her, even though his touch was very gentle when he raised a hand to brush a finger across her lips.
“You know… you don’t look so bad, even when you’re covered in demon blood.”
Lomenár just kept glaring at him and her eyes narrowed a little bit when his glare slowly turned into a wide grin.
“Was that a compliment? Because you could really use some practice in that area…” her words were abruptly cut off as Theraluin leaned in and kissed her softly.

She was silently moving through the forest, stalking a herd of deer. Twilight made the shadows lengthen and morph into grotesque shapes and the moonlight drained all colour from her surroundings, painting the forest in a ghostly grey. She spotted her prey, a proud stag with a magnificent antlered crown. She nocked an arrow to her bow, aimed carefully, pulled the bow taut and released. The arrow flew true and embedded itself into the stag’s heart and he fell to the ground with a soft thud. Then Theraluin was there and they were feasting on the heart of the stag, sharing the triumph of the kill, blood dripping from their chins.

Suddenly they were embracing, kissing each other in frenzied passion, their hands tangling painfully in each other’s hair and their bodies pressed as close as their clothing would allow, as if they were trying to meld themselves into one single being. And then there was blood. Red. Hot. The thick and heavy scent drowning her senses, engulfing her in a red haze and making her forget about everything else besides the want, the -need-, to kill. She could feel the taste of his blood on her tongue, the scent of a fresh kill teasing her nostrils. A flash of crimson. Theraluin lying dead at her feet, his throat torn out…

Lomenár woke with a start, gasping and fighting the urge to scream out loud in horror. She looked around in panic, her gaze drifting to the sleeping form beside her. It was a dream… it was just a nightmare… Theraluin was sleeping soundly at her side, his arm curled possessively around her. But despite his calm breathing and his steady heartbeats and warmth against her back she did not feel reassured. Her dream… it had been a nightmare, this time… but she feared that it would become a reality. It almost had, as a matter of fact.

She pulled the covers aside and got up, shivering and clenching her teeth as the draft from the open windows washed over her sweat-drenched skin. She silently padded over to one of the windows, trying to ignore the cold, and stared out across the rooftops of Dolanaar. She had been able to pull herself back from the edge in the nick of time the last time she lost control, but what if she couldn’t do that next time? What if the bloodlust became too strong? What if the need to kill and taste blood became too overwhelming? She knew what she was capable of when she was caught up in the blood frenzy, and she feared for Theraluin.

“I love you, Lomenár Nightsinger. -All- of you. Fully and wholly, this doesn't change anything. You hear me?” His words to her were dimmed by the darkness of her nightmare, the grim reality of what she was capable of while under the influence of the blood craze. She had tried to keep it under control, and she was usually pretty good at it, but the events of the past couple of weeks had made her control slip. Her emotions were riding high and had been impossible to rein in and contain the way she usually did, and that meant that the iron grip she usually had over her self-control was slipping as well.

She looked over her shoulder towards the bed and the sleeping form of Theraluin. He looked so peaceful, his usual frown of disapproval was completely gone and had been replaced by a soft smile, as if he was having a really good dream. Perhaps he was. Lomenár quickly stomped down the urge to run back to the bed and curl up tightly against him, close her eyes and forget all her worries for a few more hours. But she knew she couldn’t. Dusk was fast approaching and she needed to make a decision. She owed it to herself as well as Theraluin to try to figure this out… to try to regain control. And to do that she needed time to think… she needed time away, far away.

She dressed and packed quickly and quietly. When she was done she walked over to the bed, clutching a small note in her grasp. She knelt down and gently brushed her lips against Theraluin’s cheek.
“I’m so sorry, dear heart, but I have to go… I will come back to you though, I promise.”
She leaned back a little and reached up behind her neck to unfasten the necklace she’d gotten from him. She removed it carefully and placed it upon her pillow, the silver filigree pooling around the emerald like a delicate spider web made out of moonlight. She traced a finger over the emerald and placed her hastily written note on top of it before she got to her feet, grabbed her pack and walked towards the door. She halted in the doorway for a moment, glancing back towards him one last time.
“I love you…”
The words sounded more like a goodbye than anything else and she sighed heavily as she stepped into the dusk and closed the door behind her.

Lomenár's note:

“Have gone to Winterspring. Need time to think, this is all so confusing. Will be back eventually. Don’t follow me.

Yours,
Lomenár”

You know I love this story, and your writing, so much ^^

/moar!

She was running. The wind was fierce and tore at her clothing and armour as she sped across the grassy meadows of Shadowmoon Valley. Her hood snapped back and her hair streamed out behind her like a silvery banner made out of pure moonlight. Isil was loping beside her, the great cat easily keeping pace with her companion and Ráma soared far above the pair. Lomenár kept her gaze staring blindly ahead as she ran, neither looking left or right, and it was by sheer luck, or possibly a miracle, that she didn't trip and fall. She seemed filled to brim with restless energy and she ran as if she was possessed, her breakneck speed carrying her further and further away from the relative safety of Elodor.

When she reached a small grove of trees she abruptly came to a halt and fell to her knees, as if her legs had finally given out from underneath her. She remained like that for several long moments, as still and immovable as stone, and after a while Isil came padding over quietly. The saber studied her friend closely and let out a questioning sound. Lomenár didn't move. Either she hadn't heard it, or she didn't want to hear it, but her lack of response made the great cat glance worriedly up at Ráma, who had perched in one of the trees. The owl fluttered down to seat himself on Lomenár's shoulder and nipped at her earlobe, but that didn't provoke a reaction either. Cat and owl looked at one another and then at Lomenár and after a moment they seemed to come to some sort of agreement, because Ráma tucked his head underneath Lomenár's chin and Isil curled herself protectively around the kaldorei woman. The two animals shared a second look, and then they settled in to wait.

A night not so very long ago. Two souls dancing together underneath the stars, the pair embodying the meaning of the word "kaldorei" this night - they are the true Children of the Stars. Both possessing silver hair and fair, light purple and blue skin. She has glittering silver eyes, his are the same gold as the sun...

Another night, the same two souls sitting together in companionable silence at a table. The silence is broken by her after a while and a friendly argument ensues... the argument turns into a tousle and some kind of green goo seems to be the weapon of choice. The argument ends when he dumps a bowl of water over her head...

A third night. The land around them is red as blood and black smoke clouds the sky. Drums of war can be heard far off in the distance, but in this small hollow in the mountains they are in a world completely their own. They lie twined in each other's arms, her grip on him almost desperate and his around her is protective and comforting. He strokes her hair and sings softly to her, a song with words of light and hope, lulling her into much needed sleep...

After several hours a shudder went through Lomenár's body and she fell forward, beating the ground with her fists and letting out a piercing wail of anguish and sorrow. Tears streamed down her face and no matter what the two animals tried, they couldn't seem to get through to her. She didn't stop until her hands were beaten bloody and her nails broken to splinters. She took a few sobbing breaths and gripped the necklace around her throat with one hand, the tiniest light of hope shining in her eyes. But there was no answering warmth from the necklace, hadn't been for weeks now, and the hope in Lomenár's eyes flickered and died, like the flame of a candle. Easily lit, but just as easily blown out again.

The assault on the portal had been complete chaos and in the midst of the raging battle she had lost sight of Theraluin. They had gone into the fray together, but they didn't come out of it together... she had looked for him, of course she had, and in the end the others had had to drag her away and onto one of the ships that would take them away to safety. That was several weeks ago.

She had kept one hand around the necklace as often as she could since then and at first there had been an answering warmth, but the stone had suddenly gone cold one day and despite her trying to continue to hope, she feared the worst. He might just have lost the necklace... he might be lying dead in the jungle somewhere. There was no way of knowing. All she could do was wait. But she had watched and waited for weeks, and there was still no sign of him. She knew he was most likely dead and forever lost to her, but a small part of her still clung to that last shred of hope; that he might still be alive.

She suddenly turned and flung herself around Isil's neck, hugging the great cat as if her life depended on it, sobbing uncontrollably. She wanted, she -needed-, to believe that he was still alive and out there somewhere, but it was becoming increasingly hard to do so... but she would hold on for one more day... she would keep waiting and praying that the love they shared would bring him back to her...somehow.

A thousand pieces. A million tiny shards. All with jagged edges, sharp enough to cut deep, to draw blood. A stormy sea without end. Ominous-looking clouds obscuring the sky, the stars and the moons. She had no strength to continue to swim forwards, it was all she could do to keep herself afloat... and all around her, the shards. Cutting and tearing at her every time she so much as breathed.  She had cried. She had raged. She had yelled. There was no answer, not even so much as a whisper. There was no one there to hear her. No one to help her keep going, no one to pull her out. She was all alone... all alone...

He was dead. She was sure of it now. She had waited for weeks, and he never appeared, and when her patience finally ran out, she had decided to leave Elodor and look for him. She hadn't found anything. There had been no clues as to his whereabouts, no trace of him... he was just... gone. It was if he'd never existed... except that the constant pain and ache in her heart made it impossible for her to believe the lie. It would have been easier if she could have just believed it and left it like that, it would have been such a relief if that had been possible... as it was, she couldn't. The never ending pain wore her down more and more each day until she couldn't even think about the next day. There was only the next breath, and the need to keep herself afloat. Nothing else.

She hadn't wanted to give up her search, but a part of her had finally realized that she couldn't keep looking forever either. The crushing weight of that realization paired with the pain was almost too much to bear. When she had first arrived in Shadowmoon Valley she had thought the place a complete marvel, exceptionally beautiful and she had been filled with hope that she and Theraluin would find each other again. Her necklace had still been warm back then. Now the necklace was cold. Frozen. Empty. Just like her heart. Shadowmoon Valley was just that... a valley filled with haunting shadows, not a grand place filled with hopes, dreams and adventure. There was nothing left for her here. It was time to go home.

She arrived in Darnassus several weeks later, exhausted and empty. She was just a shell, brittle and hollow. She didn't even bother unpacking when she reached her room at the bunkhouse, she didn't intend to stay long in the city anyway. She had made an attempt to search for her friends, but at the same time she feared their reaction if they saw her like this. It was best to just pass by unnoticed, like the shadow that she was. But before she could leave and seek out the solitude in the icy landscape of Winterspring she had one more task to attend to.

A shallow grave, dug with her own hands, by the roots of the same tree that they had danced underneath so many moons ago. The hole was just wide and deep enough to fit a single item into. Lomenár took a deep breath and clutched the necklace with its emerald to her breast one last time before she gently lowered the prized possession into the hole and carefully began to scoop dirt over it.
"Farewell, dear heart... by the light of Elune and the grace of Malorne, may we meet again."