Solo A Light Called Hope (Part II)

[Asterope]

46th of winter, 521 AV

(Continued from A Light Called Hope Part I*)

Aster could feel her chest beginning to tighten. Her mouth felt dry, and every inhale seemed thick with ancient dust. "Be brave," she whispered to herself, tightening her grasp on the wood of the torch; glancing up at the flame, Aster took a measure of comfort from the light, and pressed on. She had to find Imogen. She had to hope that she was still safe and unhurt.

Distantly, from down the hall she was walking, Aster heard faint, weak sobs. A ghost? Or... "Imogen?" Aster called, breaking into a jog. "Imogen, is that you?!" The thought that it was a ghost or monster tricking her, luring her deeper into the crypt, crossed her mind; but she pushed the thought aside, breaking out into a full run when a weak whimper responded to her voice. "Imogen, I'm coming!"

Aster almost tripped over her own feet when the narrow hallway opened up into another large room; crumbling skeletons lined alcoves in the walls, and the ceiling was cracked, though the light coming in from above was minimal with how dark it was getting outside. Aster's gaze swept the room, landing on a pile of rubble in the far corner and... "Imogen," Aster gasped, stumbling over and dropping to her knees.

The girl was curled up beside the pile of rubble, tucked into herself; she raised a dirty, tear-streaked face at Aster's approach, wincing at the sudden torch light, sniffling. "Aster?" She whimpered, sounding disbelieving.

"It's me, oh Im, it's me, I'm here, you're safe now," Aster carefully drew the girl into a hug, feeling tears prick at her own eyes as Imogen sobbed weakly, clinging to her. "What are you doing down here?!" Aster demanded, pulling back, then shook her head. "No, never mind that. There will be time later. Are you hurt?"

Imogen nodded, wiping at her face roughly. "I...the ceiling caved in. Some of the rubble caught my leg. I managed to get out from it, but it hurts real bad, and I couldn't...couldn't get up."

"How long have you been here?" Aster asked, as she shifted to look at Imogen's leg.

"Just a little over a day," she mumbled, and relief flooded through Aster. That was better than the potential multiple days Jala had mentioned it had been since she'd last seen Imogen.

Aster held the torch up, carefully running her fingers over Imogen's shin, wincing when she felt the unnatural bump of the bone. Thankfully it hadn't pierced through her leg; while she had a few cuts and scrapes that would absolutely need tending to, a wound that severe would have been bad news. The blood loss would have been dangerous, and leaving such a deep wound open to such a dirty environment would have almost guaranteed an infection. A small miracle.

"Your leg's broken, sweetheart," Aster said gently. "We need to get you out of here though." Aster glanced around desperately, standing to rummage around the room. Unfortunately in a crypt, her options were limited, and she didn't exactly fancy wrapping Imogen's leg with dusty old cloth from a corpse. A makeshift splint would have to wait until they could get outside.

"Can you walk at all?" Aster asked, leaning down to help Imogen rise shakily to her good foot, the girl whimpering and squeezing her eyes shut, pain written in every line of her pale face. Aster's heart wrenched, but she didn't think she was strong enough to carry her out.

"Come on, you can do it. It's not far, once we get outside maybe we can get some help." Aster wrapped her arm around Imogen, letting the girl lean most of her weight against her as they began slowly making their way back towards the passage, Imogen limping heavily.

Word count: 625

[Asterope]

It was a narrow squeeze, but they just barely managed to fit side-by-side, the pair slowly making their way back towards the entrance of the crypt. It was silent except for Imogen's occasional whimpers or sniffles and Aster's murmured words of encouragement every so often. The sun dipped below the horizon on their walk back, and without thinking too much about it, Aster shifted easily into her Benshira form, the one she tended to favour.

The walk continued until finally, after what felt like an eternity, they made it back to the main crypt. "Okay," Aster exhaled. "Come on, we're almost there Immy. You're doing great, just a bit further." Aster glanced at the steep stone steps and grimaced. There was no way Imogen would make it up those. "Here, I'll carry you up the steps."

Aster crouched down, and Imogen leaned against her back, winding her arms around Aster's neck. Using her free hand to reach back and support Imogen's thigh, Aster raised the torch in her other hand as she stood, grunting slightly. Imogen was small for a girl of her age, and like most Sunberth street children, didn't exactly weigh much; but Aster wasn't exactly strong, either.

She could already feel the strain in her back and legs. Gritting her teeth, Aster put a foot on the step in front of her, and then the next, and slowly began climbing the stairs. Imogen nearly slipped from her grasp a few times, the girl's arms almost a chokehold around her neck, and Aster was gasping for breath by the time they made it to the top, her back aching; but make it to the top they did.

Aster set Imogen down as gently as she could, the two taking a few moments to rest and catch their breaths before Aster straightened up again. "Come on, let's go." She smiled tiredly at Imogen, letting the girl lean against her again as they left the crypt. "We need to find some materials so that I can wrap your leg, it should make things a little bit easier until you can get proper medical attention. Here, wait here."

Imogen carefully seated herself on the ground as Aster scavenged the area for materials. She managed to find a sturdy branch, breaking it in half with some effort, and in the end simply tore her shirt for fabric; she could always buy another. Crouching in front of Imogen, Aster carefully pressed the branches to the side of the broken shin, wincing as Imogen cried out. "Shh, deep breaths, I'm almost done," Aster soothed, lining the broken bone up as best as she could and lashing the fabric of her shirt around the makeshift splint tightly to try and keep it in place.

"You're so brave, you did so well," she soothed the girl when she was done, reaching up to wipe tears from Imogen's face. "I know it hurts. We need to keep moving, though. Take a few moments and then we'll keep going." Imogen sniffled, nodding, wiping at her own face.

She glanced up, and Aster registered shock on her features. "Aster, look out!" Imogen shrieked; acting on instinct, Aster kept low as she whipped around, barely avoiding a hand grasping for a fistful of her hair. Her blood ran cold as she stared up into the face of Alard.

"Well sunshine, I wasn't expecting to find you out here," the man grinned savagely down at her. Aster could feel her heart pounding in her chest, blood rushing in her ears.

"I wouldn't expect to find you out here. Aren't you scared of all the monsters and ghosts?" Aster found herself speaking without even meaning to, her voice scornful; Alard's grin twisted into a snarl.

"Don't you dare call me a coward you bitch," he spat, as Aster lunged to her feet; she noticed too late his sword was already drawn, and a moment later the pommel smacked firmly into her head, and the world went black.

Word count: 665
Total: 1,290

[Asterope]

Aster groaned as she came to, blinking dazedly. Where was she...? It took a moment, but everything came rushing back to her, and she sat up abruptly in a panic; or at least she tried to. She was laying on her side, her wrists and ankles bound. Panic clawed wildly inside her chest, her heart pounding, and she forced herself to inhale a deep breath through her nose; her mouth was gagged too, it seemed.

Forcing herself to calm down at least for a moment, Aster took in her surroundings. The ground below her was rocky with thin, sparse grass; they must still be on the ridge. It made sense, Alard couldn't carry her far alone. Where was Imogen? Raising her head, Aster glanced around; there. She was bound as well, her back against a tree not far from Aster. It seemed that Alard had taken them further up away from the cemetery, closer to the wilds. Where was he, anyway?

The question was answered when Aster heard booted footsteps striding towards her; a moment later, Alard's legs came into view, and he crouch, gripping her chin to force her to look up at him, smirking down at her. "Pathetic, really," he drawled. "You get away from me, spend all that time what...hiding out like a scared little mouse? And the second I finally catch wind of you, I've got you back in my clutches like the big bad wolf." He laughed, shaking Aster's head slightly, his grip bruisingly tight on her jaw. "Poor little thing."

Aster felt tears welling in her eyes; anger, hatred, fear, shame. She can't believe she'd let herself be caught again. And now she was back with Alard, and he was going to drag her back to the Sun's Birth barracks, and she'd spend gods knew how many seasons forced to be his slave again. Pointless. It was all for nothing. She was still foolish and cowardly and weak.

"I'll admit, I even missed you a little bit, sunshine," Alard continued to speak, his other hand sliding up underneath Aster's torn shirt, his rough palm against her bare skin making revulsion shudder through her. She squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her jaw. "You're mine again. I'll make sure you know it, this time. I can think of plenty of ways to mark you, plenty of places to brand you. You'll never even dare to think of running away again, you stupid whore." His voice was a low snarl as his fingers dug painfully into her bare breasts. "Maybe I'll even stamp a brand into that pretty little face of yours."

No. She wasn't cowardly, and she wasn't weak. Not as much as she had been. She'd learned things since then, gotten stronger in more ways than one. She refused to have her life stolen from her again, refused to be a slave again. And she had to keep Imogen safe now, too. Besides, she was armed now, always. Aster flexed her fingers, focusing, remembering the feeling of her claws when she needed them, when she fought with them; after a moment, she felt them slide out. Staying as still as possible, she twisted her hand until she could hook a claw beneath the ropes binding her wrists.

And she prayed as she stayed still, carefully wriggling a single finger, ignoring the rough feeling of Alard's hand on her bare skin, his words blurring until all she could make out was the tone of his voice. Yahal, give me the strength I need to keep myself and Imogen safe. Syna, let me see clearly and guide me in the right direction. And Priskil...Priskil, don't let me lose the hope I need to do what I must to keep my life my own.

Word count: 627
Total: 1,917

[Asterope]

Aster felt the rope around her wrists give. Moving quickly, she reached one hand up to tear the gag out of her mouth, the other clawing wildly up at Alard; she felt the satisfying feeling of her claws tearing through flesh, heard Alard yowl as he fell back away from her. Aster didn't stop to see what damage she had done, leaning down quickly slice the ropes binding her ankles with her claws, scrambling to her feet.

Her head was pounding, she realized dimly. She hoped she didn't have a concussion. Alard had also managed to stand, blood dripping from several deep claw marks that ran across his face from one cheek to the other. Aster felt grim satisfaction in knowing at the very least she had scarred him for life. "You fucking bitch," Alard roared, unsheathing his sword.

Oh, petch. If she wanted a fighting chance at getting out of here alive, she needed to get that sword out of his hands. Alard swung and Aster lunged, but she wasn't fast enough. She felt the blade connect low as she made bodily contact with Alard, sending the two of them tumbling to the ground. It wasn't a hard blow; it didn't feel life threatening, and she was hardly missing her limb, but Aster could feel the pain of a sizeable gash in her calf, and felt the blood flowing down her leg.

Panic and instinct set in; the only real fighting lessons she'd ever had were from a Zith who liked to play dirty, and Aster certainly wasn't above that when it came to trying to save both her and Imogen. She scrabbled at Alard's throat with one hand, desperately trying to sink her claws in; the knee of her good leg drove up between his thighs even as she leaned down and dug her teeth into the wrist of his hand that held his sword.

Alard grunted, crying out; he managed to shove her hand away from his throat, kicking her leg away, but Aster had managed to dig her teeth into his wrist. She could taste blood, metallic and hot in her mouth; she didn't dare let go even as she heard the sword thud against the rocky ground. She felt Alard's grab a handful of her hair, yanking her head back; a piece of flesh went with her, making Alard scream. Aster spat it out in disgust. His wrist was bleeding freely, but from the glance Aster managed to get, not so heavily that she had ripped into anything vital.

Alard was yelling something about her being crazy as he slammed her head into the ground, making her ears ring and her head pound even further, black spots flickering in her vision. His sword, at least, lay several feet away, forgotten. But he was still bigger and stronger than her, and he had more experience with fighting.

Aster realized abruptly that she was going to lose. A desperate laugh bubbled in her throat, and she felt hot tears falling from her eyes. She still wasn't enough. She wasn't going to give up, she thought dully, as her gaze met Imogen's terrified one. She was going to keep trying until the bitter end, whether that end was Alard impaling her on his sword or dragging her back to the barracks in a collar. She couldn't give up. She had to try.

But she was going to lose, wasn't she?

Word count: 572
Total: 2,489

[Asterope]

"Don't give up, Aster!" She heard Imogen shriek, as Alard raised her head again. Hadn't Imogen been gagged? "You have to be brave!"

Be brave. That was what the woman had said to her, too. Aster grit her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut, and threw her full body weight upwards. Alard grunted in surprise as she knocked him back. Aster was straddling him now, panting heavily; she could feel something warm trickling down the side of her head. Blood?

Alard threw his arm up as her claws went for his throat, instead scoring deep gashes in his forearm, and he bucked her off, sending her rolling slightly down the rocky hill, loose pebbles and dirt falling around her in a shower. Exhaustion was beginning to wear on her; her leg hurt, her head hurt. She was losing blood, she knew.

Alard had staggered to his feet, looming over her. He was holding his sword again, Aster realized dimly. Just as he began to raise it, the world exploded into light. Alard screamed, dropping his sword and throwing his arms up, staggering back. Aster squinted through the golden light, watching in awe and wonder; it was like he was in active pain, stumbling blindly away, tripping over himself. Meanwhile, Aster felt the despair melting away, hope and strength renewing themselves, seeming to even dull her pain momentarily.

"Leave." A familiar feminine voice commanded Alard, and he didn't need to be told twice; he had already been stumbling away, and he took off at a full, clumsy run down the hillside, still blinded by the golden glow surrounding them. The glow began to fade slowly, and Aster watched Alard disappear down the hillside back towards the cemetery, his figure vanishing into the night.

When Aster turned to look back towards the source of the light, she saw the woman from before, who she had saved from the wolves. Except there was something different about her, now; she stood taller, and the comforting aura that Aster had felt from her was stronger, radiating energy. She seemed to almost glow from within, and there was a power to her.

Aster recognized it as divinity. "Who are you?" She whispered, even as Imogen, apparently freed from her bonds, came limping over as fast as she could, throwing her arms around Aster's neck.

"My name is Priskil," the woman said, and Aster wasn't sure whether to laugh or to cry.

"You...saved me," she said, rather dumbly, and Priskil smiled gently at her. She looked to Imogen, who was staring with wide eyes.

"Child, why don't you go fetch the graveyard keeper? Asterope is injured, as are you, and unfortunately healing is not my domain. I imagine you two will require help getting home. Do not strain yourself; you will be safe on your walk." Imogen could only nod. Aster squeezed her gently, watching with concern as Imogen released her and stepped back, beginning to hobble the long walk back down the ridge. "She will be fine," Priskil said, and Aster believed her.

"Why did you save me?" Aster blurted out, after Imogen had left, turning back to the goddess standing before her. Priskil sat beside her, and Aster watched in shock as she tore a strip from her own plain dress, handing it to the Benshira-Ethaefal.

"For your wound. You should wrap it," Priskil said, voice soft, and Aster nodded slightly. Pushing herself to a sitting position, Aster examined her leg, wincing; it was a fairly deep cut. If she had to guess, it would probably need stitches. She was lucky it hadn't been worse. A pass of her hand aged the wound slightly, enough to mostly slow the bleeding, and Aster bound the gash in her calf tightly.

Priskil watched, handing her another strip of fabric, and all Aster could do was mumble a thanks as she wrapped the wound again. Finally, Priskil spoke. "You've been through much in your short life, Asterope. It has always seems to me your kind are doomed to tragedy from the moment you leave the sky and strike the sea. You are no exception."

"But you refused to wallow in that, even in the lowest, darkest of times. You're strong. You found hope, saw it in the dark, and you clung onto it with all your might. Even now. Your hope is what makes you strong, what allowed you to push through your fear to search for Imogen, to refuse to back down in the face of despair and potentially death. It is what gave you the courage to fight back."

Aster was silent, looking at Priskil. Even dressed as a simple, plain Sunberthian woman, she was beautiful. Sitting next to her, bloody, in torn clothes and with dried blood staining her mouth and hands from her desperate fight, Aster felt...filthy.

Word count: 802
Total: 3,291

[Asterope]

Priskil's gaze softened, as if she could hear Aster's thoughts. "Hope is not always pretty, Asterope. Sometimes we must do difficult, dirty things to survive and to cling to it. We do what we must to protect ourselves and loved ones from the darkness that would harm us. You understand this better than most. That is why I saved you. I need people like you, who have been low and still seen hope, and who know that sometimes it is a hard, dirty job to climb your way back up to it. But it is a necessary one. We must never lose hope in the face of despair, of darkness, of evil. I'm afraid Alard is not gone for good, but I know you have the courage and you will find the strength to face him in whatever way you must."

Aster could feel tears streaking down her face again, unbidden, and she nodded slowly. "Need people like me for what?" Aster finally asked, her voice barely a whisper. Priskil sighted softly.

"During the Valterrian, the rending of worlds both mortal and divine, my lover Aquiras was gravely injured. His heart was stolen from him so that another might rise to power. Sagallius." The name was spoken bitterly, and Aster could hear the pain and mourning in her voice, even so many years after the fact. "Together, Aquiras and I powered the Watchstones. I made them radiant, and he turned them into magical doorways. Now, I keep them lit, but they have only a fraction of their previous power. And I keep him safe, hoping I may one day regain his heart with help from those who know the taste of darkness, and who overcame it with the brightness of hope."

Aster was silent, stunned at this information, and stunned further that Priskil saw even a sliver of such potential in her. "You are stronger and braver than you think, Asterope," Priskil said, looking her fully in the face, and Aster's breath caught in her throat, pinned under the luminous gaze of the goddess. "Your hope gives you strength. Never lose it."

Priskil leaned forward, picking up the hand that bore the brand of the Sun's Birth on it, and tracing a finger down Aster's palm. Sudden blinding pain erupted in Aster's palm, not dissimilar to the pain of a brand, yet different; it went deeper, burning through her veins, stealing the breath out of her lungs and filling her vision with blinding, golden light. "Be brave," she heard Priskil murmur again, and when the light faded, she was sitting alone, the fire in her veins dulling to a dim, comforting warmth.

Looking down at her hand, feeling slightly dizzy, Aster stared at the mark upon her palm; it wasn't raised like a brand, but it was more physical than any tattoo she'd ever seen. It was a swirling vortex, glowing with the faintest golden light. Aster flexed her fingers, a tear dripping into the center of the mark on her palm before she closed her hand, looking up. "Thank you," she spoke aloud into the air.

"Asterope!" She heard Imogen cry, and when she turned her head, she saw Jebediah striding up the path towards her. The thunderous expression on his face was slightly ruined by the girl clinging to his back.

"Why is it every time something happens around here, I found you nosing around my graveyard where you don't belong?" The man growled, reaching a hand down to help Aster to her feet.

Word count: 586
Total: 3,877

[Asterope]

She only smiled faintly at him, turning her gaze to Imogen. Asterope. That was her...had been her. But perhaps she was someone else, now. The mark glowing on her palm, a gift from a goddess, signaled something new. A new chapter in her life. Asterope had been the scared, lost, woman, new to the world and desperate in her despair, cowering before tragedy after tragedy.

Now, though...things were different. She was still scared, still lost, still new to the world in the grand scheme of things; but she refused to cower before anyone again. Be brave, Priskil's words rang warmly in her head. Wiping the drying blood from her mouth and chin, Aster smiled at Imogen. "What do you think of the name Aurelia?" She asked, as they began the slow walk back down the hill, Aster limping as she put her weight on her good leg.

"Pretty," Imogen hummed, and that was all the approval from her that Aster needed.

The walk back was long and silent; Imogen and Aster were both too exhausted to speak, and Jebediah was, as usual, annoyed and not one for small talk. He was, however, kind enough to escort them back to the edge of the city. "You're on your own from here," he grunted.

"Thank you, Jebediah," Aster said, exhausted but genuine, distracted by the thought of a new her, a new identity, a new name swirling around in her head. "I think we'll be okay from here." Something told her Priskil hadn't saved her life just for her to get jumped and killed by a street thug. Then again, who knew in Sunberth. But Aster felt safe enough despite the rough condition she and Imogen found themselves in.

"Alright, back to the orphanage with you," she said to Imogen, allowing the girl to lean on her good side. She knew the Orphanage had at least someone relatively competent on staff to deal with injuries; they must, with all the children. If she had to Aster would go back the next day to properly dress Imogen's leg. And hopefully Jillene wouldn't blame her for the girl's injuries; Aster didn't think she could handle a beating from the tough Isurian woman in the state she was in. "And after that I'll go back to Jala's, let her know you're alright." And hopefully get herself patched up a bit as well.

Imogen only nodded, and Aster squeezed the girl's shoulders gently as the two of them trekked through the city, Aster's thumb rubbing over the gently glowing vortex mark on her palm, tasting out the name Aurelia silently in her mouth.

Word count: 437
Total: 4,314