Flashback [Endrykas/Aquiras Tunnel] Stolen Visions (Sybel)

[Vanator]

The Drykas felt a sense of victory when he heard Sybel whoop with excitement, and his hands clasped a little firmer to her own. Time seemed to hover in suspension as they raced across the open grassland, bodies pressed together as if designed to fit perfectly one against the other. Vanator eventually had to turn his head to avoid the Benshiran's whipping mane, feeling it thrash against is neck as he held her close.

“Where are we going?”

Sybel's raised voice tethered the three of them to time and dimension again, forcing the Drykas to consider the universe beyond the moment. Backlash would tire quickly at this pace, and there was a full day ahead of them. With a subtle twitch of her rider's heels, the Strider began to slow. More steady than her typical bone-jarring deceleration, Backlash eased down into a trot. The mare was aptly named, able to turn on a miza at a good clip. But the horse, intelligent and hauntingly semi-sentient, considered the stranger astride her, and offered the woman mercy.

Vanator lowered their joined hands, wrapping his arms around Sybel while still grasping her hands. His embrace was firm, expressing a bridled affection, for if he squeezed with all the emotion he was experiencing, Van was sure he would crush her. The man turned his head towards Sybel once again, speaking through the wild muss of her windblown hair.

"I want to take you to see something special." Vanator would not reveal the nature of their destination. Sybel may have been in Endrykas long enough to hear folklore about the Aquiras Tunnel, but he wanted this to be a surprise. Few of the Drykas knew of its location, or of what it contained. Vanator's father, the Ankal, knew, and had shown his son one day while the two hunted alone. They did not enter, for Van's father said it was up to him to decide when, and if, he ever visited the pool inside. Though his father would probably not approve of his son revealing the Tunnel to a foreigner, Vanator's love for Sybel, yes he admitted it was love, compelled him to share something extraordinary with her. So, that morning, Vanator walked the Web to confirm the location of the sacred place.

Backlash huffed, her flaring nostrils sucking in fresh spring air as she strove to fill her starving lungs after the djed-enhanced gallop. Though the sprint had taxed the horse, she seemed very pleased to be treading the grasslands, shaking out her tangled mane. They rode like that for a period, the mare plodding along, the man wrapping both his arms and the woman's around her waist. The urge was persistent, the feeling that he could not get close enough to her, could not find enough points of physical contact between them, could not plumb far enough into her being to satisfy his want to consume every aspect of the intoxicating woman. But patience was required, growing anticipation the savor that flavored some yet future undefined culmination of their wants and desires.

His resolve weakening, Vanator released his hold in Sybel's hands, One slid to her leg, laying flat against her hide-clad thigh. The other strong hand raised to point out to the right of them. In the distance, a collection of large, dark creatures lumbered through the grass. "Olidosapai," Vanator indicated as he watched the shaggy rhino-like creatures. " A dangerous prey for the Drykas, the creatures are only pursued during specific, organized hunts, like the Fall Hunt I am sure you have heard about. They are amazing animals. When threatened, the young are herded into a group, and the females form a ring around them, facing out to fend off any attack as the male challenges any opponent."

His attention could not be turned from Sybel for long, and Vanator leaned around to kiss her cheek, and then her neck. "Not much further now my dear." His hands reached around her again, this time his palms flattening against the lean plane of her stomach. The Drykas' voice lowered, as if there were others around to hear. Deep timbre resonated close to the Benshiran's ear. It may have not be the time to explore her physically, but there was much about the woman that intrigued Vanator beyond the arousing curves of her feminine shape. "Tell me, what does Sybel of the Deserts seek in a man?"

[Sybel]

If Vanator was uncomfortable, he certainly did not show it. Their rapid pace across the grass caused her hair to flail out behind her. After a bit he conceded and shifted accordingly. Had Sybel known they’d be riding together, she’d have tied her tresses to the side. There really wasn’t any reason to lament, however. Instead she let her joy fly high, off amongst the clouds. There had been very few times in her life where she’d felt an adrenaline rush that wasn’t directly associated with fear. The sublime lack of control was alien and yet totally fulfilling. If she had known earlier what was to come, she might have even shied away from it. It was a good thing then that Vanator kept his secrets. Sybel was immensely grateful for this gift.

They slowed gradually, the wind ebbing out of her crazed locks and they flowed back to rest at the base of her neck. The woman could hear the familiar rhythm of her pounding heart. The ends of her fingers tingled for some strange reason and she couldn’t feel the tip of her nose. Despite these odd symptoms, she was ecstatic. Their extended arms shifted as the Drykas folded them into an embrace. He would feel the speed of her pulse. It wasn’t wholly from the ride, either. As his face pressed into the tangle of her hair, she shivered and sighed. It took a few moments for him to actually respond.

"I want to take you to see something special," he spoke secretively. It was clear he was giving nothing away. As long as it wasn’t some maniacal ploy to murder her, she would let him have his fun. Sybel grinned. He must have guessed how she loved surprises. Not all of them – most surprises were on the whole, terrifying. When it came to romance however, she didn’t always desire to know what was in store. If there were no mystery, you couldn’t appreciate the excitement.

The horse lathered with the walk, clearly having spent a good deal of energy in their flight. Sybel fell into the movement absently, just enjoying her companion’s warmth. Her right thumb caressed their interlocked hands out of habit, the motion a reassuring sort of gesture. He seemed overwhelmed and released his grasp on her, instead placing a hand atop her thigh while the other gestured to a pack of unknown creatures. "Olidosapai," he supplied, and she nodded sagely. ”A dangerous prey for the Drykas, the creatures are only pursued during specific, organized hunts, like the Fall Hunt I am sure you have heard about.” Oh yes. Men got particularly thirsty around that time and frequented the Trough often. ”They are amazing animals. When threatened, the young are herded into a group, and the females form a ring around them, facing out to fend off any attack as the male challenges any opponent."

Drykas had a reverence for nature. Sybel found that quality endearing. They moderated their hunting practices in order to pay respect for that which sustained them. It was fitting given the culture. She appreciated that particular consistency. It prevented their people from becoming indolent or gluttonous. “No doubt you’ve felled your share,” she teased lightly. She knew he’d have participated in the hunts, being a strider. “Perhaps you might show me your wind marks sometime.” There was a hint of suggestion behind her words, but otherwise it was genuine curiosity. Every man had earned those tattoos. He was proud to bear them. There could be no doubt.

"Not much further now my dear." His tone was a comfort. Sybel was enjoying herself well enough not to complain. Vanator’s touch was keeping his mind occupied. On cue he rested his hands against her stomach. That was a very intimate area of her body and the feeling was stimulating. "Tell me, what does Sybel of the Deserts seek in a man?" His breathy whisper caused her knees to go weak for a moment. Without hesitation she replied. “You,” she groaned lightly. This was very dangerously close to her boundary. Regaining some measure of dignity, she tried to continue. “I’ve never met someone so…” Words failed her. “Perfect.” Perhaps not in the literal sense, but perfect for her. Sybel was acutely aware of his hands, resting overtop her womb. If they chose to move south it could very well shatter any patience she had left.

“And you…?” She struggled.

[Vanator]

“Perhaps you might show me your wind marks sometime.”

Vanator admitted, there was no use in denying themselves the indulgence of intimate flirting. Such was the intensity of the attraction, the blossoming love between them. For so long he felt as if he did not deserve this kind of closeness, or perhaps believed he could never feel this kind of love again. But as his hands pressed gently against the softness of Sybel's stomach, his calloused hands riding the shifting linen over the soft, lean skin, his fingers crossing over the indentation of her navel, Vanator welcomed the heat generated by the subtle friction and play of words between them.

The Benshiran's answer to his loaded question betrayed a concession on her part as well, to speak from the heart with boldness. Sybel's response compelled Vanator to pull her closer, to press another kiss to her cheek. Perfection was a lofty word to tote, and Vanator felt nowhere worthy of it, though he would readily attribute it to the gorgeous woman he held so close. In turn, she posed the same question to him with one word. "You?"

At the risk of shattering the delicious tension of the moment, Vanator could not help but quip, "I do not seek a man, Sybel." He buried his face in her thick, soft hair as he chuckled lightly. "Nor do I seek a woman. All I could ever want, I am now holding in my arms."

At that moment, he had spoken no truer words. Vanator's hands caressed Sybel's abdomen, sliding upwards until they brushed the very bottom edge of her breasts. Then, they moved southward again, until each hand found itself laying again atop her thighs. His heels tapped Backlash's sides, coaxing the Strider into a more hurried gate. The Drykas was anxious to reach their destination, if only so he could give Sybel a proper kiss.

The land had grown to a more uneven terrain, the plains now rolling like a piece of slightly crumpled silk. A telltale tree, short but old and gnarled, betrayed the nearness of the secret destination. A few more chimes, and they would be there.

"Our destination is just ahead." Again, his voice raised only above the sound of the thudding hooves, low and promising. "And as for my windmark...I am sure you will be able to coerce me to reveal that to you as well. Do you have any tattoos or marks that a curious man may wish to see?"

[Sybel]

Vanator seemed quite comfortable keeping his hands where they were and Sybel was inclined to agree. It was a very personal area, yet she didn’t feel he was intruding. At her reply he leaned forward and kissed the narrow plane of her cheek. His lips were warm despite the wind’s frigid bite. The press of their bodies generated a wellspring of heat, helping fend off the chill. It was a lovely sensation. For a moment he hesitated, then said: "I do not seek a man, Sybel." Laughter bubbled out of her mouth; she’d set herself up for that one. It never hurt to have a bit of your own medicine. He continued with a little laugh. "Nor do I seek a woman. All I could ever want, I am now holding in my arms."

Was it the cold that sent her shivering? Or the truth of his words? Sybel had only known him a short time but was absolutely certain of his sincerity. The Drykas did not offer such words lightly. His hands began to slide along the thin fabric of her shirt, just barely brushing the bottom of her chest. The absolutely vulnerability she felt in that moment was akin to nothing else. Sybel inhaled deeply through her nose, her own hands laying atop his. He had her permission to explore if he wished. Still, he returned them south until they again laid upon her thighs. She followed his touch every step of the way. The tenderness made her feel lightheaded.

He was barely audible over the roar of the wind. "Our destination is just ahead." The tone he used was laden with promise. "And as for my windmark...I am sure you will be able to coerce me to reveal that to you as well.” Her laughed chimed out ahead of him. “No coercion will be necessary,” she called out to make sure he heard. “I’m a mean negotiator.” Excitement danced across her nerves. ”Do you have any tattoos or marks that a curious man may wish to see?"

“None to speak of,” she answered pleasantly. “I have a few scars from battle but nothing significant. Still, they’re in some sundry locations!” She winked knowing full well he couldn’t see. “A curious man may still want to see them.” Of course he would. Sybel was thinking of one in particular – a silvery gash across the inside of her thigh. Van would be curious indeed. Still, the two of them had been behaving themselves thus far. There was something so appealing about building that tension. It simmered at the pit of her stomach, hampering rational thought.

“You know, I love surprises…” She said aloud, half in thought. Sybel spent so much time jesting that her tone of voice sometimes felt strange, alien. Having a casual conversation had never come naturally. For her, sarcasm and droll humor bridged the gaps in idle talk. Without leaning on those qualities, she found herself as a fish out of water. Sybel had never had an adult relationship before. “You seem to have me pegged.”

[Vanator]

Thinly veiled innuendo continued to fuel the primal tension between the man and woman, allowing them to express individual interest in things more carnal, yet maintain a semblance of civility that kept the interactions simmering at a tantalizing low heat.

“I have a few scars from battle but nothing significant. Still, they’re in some sundry locations! A curious man may still want to see them.”

The pace of the horse eased to a slower walk. "I have been accused of being rather curious." The grin that stretched across Vanator's face could be heard in his playful tone. That curiosity had reached its summit when he met Sybel. Since their first meeting, the Drykas had been preoccupied with thoughts of her, questions and fantasies, all which he anticipated coming to fruition in the coming days.

Vanator had hoped the Benshiran beauty liked surprises. It just seemed to fit her personality, anticipation seemed to be something Sybel savored as much as he did. Whether the man had truly pegged the desert girl or not, Vanator would admit that it was impossible to truly understand any woman. But he was anxious to try with Sybel.

The mounted couple approached a larger, grass covered ridge. Vanator paused, looking around as if to get his bearings. Then he urged Backlash up the ridge and over. On the other side, the ridge took a turn to their left. In the crux of the corner, the bank was breached by a cave opening. "We are here." He announced with some excitement.

Sliding from the yvas, Vanator offered his hand to assist Sybel in dismounting, though something told him she needed no help. But it allowed him to lay hold on her hand again, and draw her to him. Vanator raised a hand to lay against Sybel's golden cheek, meeting her sky blue gaze before pressing a kiss to her lips. The Drykas intended only a brief embrace, but the desire built up over bells of riding with Sybel pressed against him compelled the man to pull the woman firmly to him, his lips parting so his tongue could brush across her plush mouth. His hands wandered, caressing her back down to the curve above her arse and around her hips. Again, ignited possibilities threatened to push Vanator past his limit, nearly driving him to flatten the grass with Sybel right there.

But he beat back again his desire, tearing himself from Sybel and reaching instead for the waterskin, offering it to his companion. As she drank, Vanator pulled a torch from the bundle behind the yvas, and produced a flint and steel. Setting sparks to the pitched head, the torch flared to life. It was said no creature entered the cavern, but the Drykas thrust a hand ax through his belt for good measure.

Looking towards the dark-maned woman, Vanator clasp her hand again, fingers entwined in a familiar grasp that was comfortable but not mundane. Sparks of excitement still jumped across his heart when they connected in such a simple way.

"This is called Aquiras Tunnel." He spoke with a hint of reverence. They neared the entrance, a seemingly innocuous stony opening that could be found anywhere in Cyphrus. But the gleam in Vanator's eyes, the brightness of his smile and the squeeze of her small hand in his, indicated that, at least to him, this cave was extraordinary. "I have not been inside, but I have been told what one may find. Are you ready my desert angel?"

[Sybel]

She could hear the smile in his voice. "I have been accused of being rather curious." It was frustrating, not being able to read his expressions. Yet somehow, it was for the best. In the moments his hands began to roam, that honey gaze might have set her to ignite. It was fortunate then that his gentle voice lurked just beyond her ear. Nearly as bad, but fortunate nonetheless. The imagined moment interjected itself as she envisioned his hungry gaze, looking upon her scars. It would not be that day; she’d known that the minute she’d stepped from her tent. Otherwise they’d still be there, not out in the wilds.

Attempting to cool off, her eyes danced along the vivid scenery. The Sea of Grass was one of her favorite haunts, though she’d never go too far. The Drykas web held her safely in its sway. Should she become endangered, there was a greater chance for survival. They crested a verdant ridge, Backlash handling the incline with ease. The Strider was a marvel. "We are here." The deep timbre of his voice sliced through her wandering thoughts. Vanator barely concealed his mounting glee. The smile stuck on her face and Sybel wondered with amusement if it’d freeze there.

They came to a halt and he descended, offering his hand for aid. Normally she’d decline such an offer but the male ego was a fragile thing. The opportunity for physical contact was too great to ignore besides, and thus he helped her down. As her feet touched the ground, his free hand reached to caress her cheek. It was slightly rough and very strong, his familiar aroma wafting to greet her. Sybel shuddered slightly, eyes soft. There was a moment of hang time before he kissed her. A wealth of feeling spilled out as their lips moved, the urgency quickly mounting. It was leaving her short of breath. His hands began to take liberties and hers did the same, one running the length of his well-muscled back while the other trailed his hip, moving south along the curve of his rear. As soon as he began to emulate the gesture, they broke apart.

It was difficult to avoid panting. The Drykas made her feel desperate for a man’s touch, in a way she’d not felt in a lifetime. “Well,” she began breathlessly. There was no resisting nature. “Nikali must have come calling.” Their own private joke. Vanator passed her a waterskin as he readied a torch, setting himself to more productive occupations. Sybel drank lightly, her stomach in ropes. She passed the skin back to her counterpart, who took her again in hand. They turned to the yawn of a cave opening, slight and unassuming. She puzzled over the significance.

"This is called Aquiras Tunnel." There was no explanation, though at least part of the mystery became evident. Aquiras was the fallen god of doorways. That was where her knowledge began and ended. Giddy with newfound excitement, she nearly began to bounce on her heels. Adventure was within her sights! "I have not been inside, but I have been told what one may find. Are you ready my desert angel?" His flattery rattled around in her chest alongside everything else. “Yes,” she replied eagerly, allowing him to lead on.

They approached the opening and entered, the size scarcely big enough for the two of them. The torch had been a blessed idea given the lack of light. Sybel’s night vision was better than most but the tunnel by itself was near pitch. They walked and walked, the Benshira lost in silent reverence. There was something very sacred about this place, she thought. It was an utterly intangible thing and yet it was there. For how long they traveled, she could not say. The drafty little opening suddenly widened into a cave; it was just a small space with a tiny pool in the middle.

Sybel wordlessly looked to her partner who held true to her hand. “This is beautiful,” she spoke in hushed tones. “What do we do?” Should they stand at the water’s edge and gaze into the surface? Was it more profound than that?

[Vanator]

Hand in hand, Sybel and Vanator ventured into the tunnel, mundane in appearance but sacred in atmosphere. The exhilaration that lit the Drykas' soul was threefold. First was Sybel herself, the rich desire for her magnified by the liberties taken in their recent embrace. To say that Vanator wanted her would be a vulgar understatement. He wanted to make passionate love to her, but his musings on such a union would not have been considered innocent in their imagination. He knew this was not the place for such indulgence, which he readily accepted, for in Sybel, Vanator found far more in which to delight. She was a being that encompassed all he wanted, carnal or otherwise.

Secondly was the solemnity of the place. Few even were the Drykas that knew it truly existed. Divine magic lay within the natural setting, a vestige of a broken god, a gift left for those bold enough to take it. Vanator had never entered the place, for he knew that the gift was only given to each once in a lifetime. He had chosen this time in his life, when Sybel appeared, to enter the sacred tunnel.

The third source of his excitement was the fact that he had brought Sybel with him. It was an unspoken taboo, taking a foreigner into such a secret place. To perpetrate such a rebellion, risk strict consequences in the name of love, was titillating to the Drykas.

As they entered the opening at the end of the tunnel, Vanator raised the torch to examine the walls. The room was small, the pool smaller, yet the water was clear, without scum or silt. Kneeling next to the pool, the Denusk coaxed his companion to join him with a gentle tug on her hand. Laying the torch aside, Vanator looked into the water as Sybel posed her question.

"“This is beautiful, what do we do?”

His hand still clutching hers, Van look at Sybel with a joyful smile, before turning his gaze back to the water and speaking in a soft baritone. "It is said that this water is a gift from Aquiras. All who drink from it will have their thirst quenched. But fate selects a few to receive the true gift. Lore goes that those, when they return to the entrance, will see a vision from their life, past or future. The gift is only given once to each person."


Vanator's dark gaze turned again to meet Sybel's eyes, still bright in the dim torchlight. The moment overwhelmed the man. His senses were filled with the aroma of soil and stone, flame and the exotic scent of the Benshiran beauty. Earth and fire, air and water, the elements all surrounding them, divine gnosis almost palpable hovering over them. And the incredible allure of Sybel so close to him.

Vanator leaned towards her, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek before brushing his mouth to hers, the environment too solemn for even the ardent Drykas to profane with a more lusty expression of his passion. Not that the flame within him did not spark at the tender contact. Withdrawing only enough to focus again upon her pale blue irises, Vanator smiled with reserve, then spoke again. "Are you willing to drink with me, Sybel?"

[Sybel]

The atmosphere of the place was alive with some incredible power. The further along the winding path, the more potent that feeling became. He encouraged her to kneel at the water’s edge with a gentle pull of their entwined hands. Sybel obliged him, gazing at their combined reflections. She saw the image of her upturned lips, pleased at the picture place before them. Vanator and Sybel fit so well together, each subtle contrast somehow a compliment. She glanced up to see him truly, unsatisfied by the watery mirror. The Ankal’s son looked joyful, his eyes flashing with contained excitement. She felt a surge of affection for the man and her smile lit up accordingly. His scent overcame the earthy stench of cavern for that she was grateful. There was an insatiable part of her mind that wondered if he tasted as good as he always smelled, but she let the moment pass.

He turned back to the water before them. "It is said that this water is a gift from Aquiras.” That would explain the namesake. Sybel’s eyes widened a fraction. ”All who drink from it will have their thirst quenched. But fate selects a few to receive the true gift.” Her nostrils flared slightly with the sharp intake of breath. That was interesting, indeed. ”Lore goes that those, when they return to the entrance, will see a vision from their life, past or future. The gift is only given once to each person." The existence of such a place was incredible. The Benshira looked to her love, speechless. There was little that could be said as she mulled it over. Would it be a scourge of her past or a flash of the future? That was for the God of Doorways to decide.

Vanator’s affections could not wane, despite the cave’s holy ambience. He pressed a chaste kiss to one cheek and then her lips, leaving her craving more. The woman’s eyes were forlorn at his hasty departure, but she was resolutely silent. Instead she gave a reassuring squeeze of their hands, and began to process the task laid before her. Sybel didn’t have much experience with Aquiras, a thought she’d previously had. It was hard not to feel irreverent, taking advantage of such a gift. Yet there was a doubtful voice within. Who was to say she’d see anything at all? There had never been anything particularly special about her. Which of course, was a lie. But it was a reassuring one.

"Are you willing to drink with me, Sybel?"

She grinned. “Water or ale, I’ll always drink with you.” No, she couldn’t resist a joke. Yet it had a ring of sincerity. The statement was laden with meaning, laced with an unspoken vow. Sybel had promised something similar the night before. She was overflowing with the pretty words, but could she truly abide the fate they brought along? Why did these thoughts haunt her so? It was incredibly hard to escape the feeling of foreboding. They could ride Backlash into the ground and her doubt would still follow at the heel.

Cupping her hands, she reached forward to take some water. It was of course, meant for him to follow. The water touched her lips and she disappeared for a moment, lost to some inexplicable urge. Her hand unlaced from his, falling limp and slipping away. Sybel stood stock straight and turned, moving to the exit. It was as if she had no control, yet her conscious mind was present. Brow furrowed, her feet picked up their step until the opening was upon her.

There was the moment she’d been running from, standing plainly before her face. Seeing the moment from a third party perspective was all the more terrifying. To perceive the mangled, headless bodies of her Father’s killers, lying out among the sand... Sybel staggered to the side of the cave as the images played out their gruesome scene. Her own naïve hands, stained a quickly drying brown, pulling the rope tight around the mercenary’s neck. The first time she’d ever killed, with the nauseating sensation that it wouldn’t be her last. The young woman fell to her knees in the vision and sobbed, lost to the God of Purity. Lost to the world. The Benshira had prayed to avoid this, tears streaming down her face in the present as well as the past. But the God would not grant the mercy of the future. Instead he’d presented a lesson of the past.

As the memory faded, she gasped and buried her face against the wall. She was uncertain if Vanator followed or if it’d all been a dream. The weeping was of shame and of terror. It felt like an animal fear, the scent of blood inexplicably in her nose. All she knew was the feeling and it had her completely overcome.

[Vanator]

“Water or ale, I’ll always drink with you.”


A wide grin revealed strong white teeth as Vanator savored Sybel's reply, lighthearted on the surface, but he believed she meant it as sincerely as his own soul echoed the sentiment. The new lovers exchanged such intimations often, inferences to a shared life that defied an ending. Such notions were not uncommon among young couples, infatuated with the concept of love as much as with the one they adored. But Vanator was a boy no longer, and when he thought of being with Sybel for the rest of his life, it was because he wanted to be with her, experience all fate had laid before him..with her.

But as the Benshiran woman leaned down to draw a handful of water, Vanator quieted his mind in reverence. He watched the crystal water trickle from her cupped palm into her mouth, jealous of the water's passage past her parted lips. Then the Drykas himself dipped his hands into the cool pool and brought forth his own drink. The water was refreshing, cold and with a pleasant taste, unlike the warm, tainted water in his waterskin.

Sybel had already started up the tunnel, and Vanator was compelled to follow, mindful enough to grab the torch. Once the light of the opening appeared, the man discarded the light source in favor of what came into view. As he neared the cave exit, there was no longer the vista of grasslands before him. In fact, it was the inside of a pavilion, white with the sides opened and lit by a myriad of candles. A crowd was gathered, divided by a center aisle and all facing the front of the large tent. Vanator recognized his father and mother, and a few others, from the back of their heads. But what captured his attention was the trio in the small platform in front.

He himself, clad in his finest blue embroidered tunic, stood with a woman beside him. Her raven hair was coiffed in ornate knots and braids, her petite form clad in a white lace dress. A small swell at her abdomen suggested she was pregnant. Across from them stood another young woman, hair equally dark, but with olive skin and brilliant violet eyes. Though Van discerned she was not Drykas, her hair was styled in Drykas knots and braids as well, she too wearing a white dress.

It was a marriage ceremony. His, or more precisely, the marriage of his Second Wife. Both women were young and beautiful, and the glow that lit their faces expressed profound joy. But the watching Vanator did not share in their rejoicing. No matter how close he examined each girl, he could find no indication that either were Sybel. A tight pressure seized his chest and a knot formed in his throat. How could not even one of his wives be Sybel? Sorrow washed over the Drykas, followed by a growing disbelief, or a refusal to believe.

A panic gripped Vanator. No...how could he love anyone more than Sybel? What happened? It could be changed...the future can always be changed. He would not let that future happen. Not without Sybel. He would make sure of it, with any means possible. Steeling his composure, Vanator shook the vision from his head, the expanse of the Sea of Grass again appearing beyond the opening. It was then that Van finally heard Sybel's weeping, and he rushed to her as she hid her face against the stone and earth wall.

"Sybel," he consoled, his voice soft but rich with compassion, "Bel." Vanator did not waste his breath in asking if she was alright. The woman had seen something terrible, whether the past or future, he could not tell. It was prideful and naive to bring Sybel to the tunnel. He just wanted to share something special, to show her how much he loved her. Never did Vanator consider that the visions could be unpleasant. Perhaps this was the beginning, the reason why his vision did not feature her. His arms surrounded her. Not firmly, not restricting, but protective and understanding. The man's head leaned against hers, side by side, and he spoke again. "I am sorry, I should not have brought you here." At that moment, Vanator made a promise to himself. He was going to make sure they were together.

[Sybel]

It was only seconds after, that she realized he had followed. Her heaving quieted a bit as she caught the sound of his breathing. The anguish slowly ebbed from her chest. "Sybel," Vanator crooned. It comforted her. "Bel." Slowly, she turned toward him. Her eyes were wild, still alight from temporary panic. She caught his furrowed countenance. Something didn’t sit right in that expression. Still, it was likely concern. In a flash she threw herself into his arms. Her limbs snaked around him tightly, the warmth from his chest soothing the cornered animal within. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heart, a taut beating drum. Sybel pressed her desperate lips against the flesh of his neck, kissing senselessly.

Something he said forced her away. The sound of his face next to hers, murmuring. "I am sorry, I should not have brought you here." Sniffling, she reached up and pulled his chin with a gentle tug, bringing his face to hers. “No,” she breathed. That was foolishness if she ever heard it. Her still quivering heart ached with tenderness. “This was necessary. Thank you.” Her lips claimed his now, uninhibited. There was a hole inside, ragged emptiness yearning to be mended. It gaped in the face of that memory, that feeling of ultimate loneliness as she’d cried out to to Yahal. Sybel’s tongue slipped between his lips, seeking depths previously unknown. Uneven breath gasped from her nose as she struggled against him.

One hand traveled down the Drykas’ form, palm running flat against his torso. It crept slowly toward that forbidden destination, hesitating before she found her purchase. The contact was brief but splendid, digits furling around the source of his pride before dancing away, continuing down the front of his thigh. In her fervor she’d forgotten herself, desperate to become whole again. Sybel began to move back, slowly peeling away from the rising action. Any further and they’d be over the edge, making love in the long blades of grass. She wanted that, more desperately than ever before. But not yet. Not after what she’d just witnessed.

Staggering back, she took a moment to compose herself. Her eyes were locked onto his as she leaned against the uneven surface of the rock. “It’s okay,” she said breathlessly. “What I saw…” She trailed, debating on how to phrase it. “When I was seventeen, my Father was murdered. That night, his sword tasted blood. By my hand.” That came easier than expected. It was a grim truth. “I killed those petching bastards. Every last one.” But trembling came at the thought. The woman reached out an upturned hand. “I killed five men. I lobbed their heads off and wrapped my garrote around their necks. My God was not there. Yahal did not intervene with his omnipotent, holy light.” It would be easy to blame him, sure. But Sybel had never been truly Benshira.

“To take a man’s life is to change. Irrevocably. Once blooded, you can never turn back.” Her sorrow was great; the expression she wore was solemn, sad. “I was a young girl who had one being that loved her, only one. And all I’ve ever truly lamented was that I could not say goodbye.” Fresh tears stood in her eyes. “I saw the final corpse, lying prone against the sand. My cord around his neck, my foot in his back. The blush fading from his flesh. I saw the life go out in his eyes. And I felt nothing but the bitter taste of hatred.” The desert woman sighed, two drops breaking free. But she’d not weep again. Not this time.

“I am a killer. I am alone. The god and the people I knew were never mine. I know no place. It is…” She’d never truly spoken of it in this way before. “It is a heavy burden to bear.” But something went unsatisfied as she finished her tale. “Did you see a vision, Vanator?” The edge in her voice was somewhat dubious.