Spring Blossoms (Kamalia, Closed)

[Gromhir]

“Until the end,” Gromhir repeated those words and Kamalia could feel the gaping wound that they conjured in his soul. To him, everyday was a lifetime, but to Kamalia, a day was simply another breath in her life. This fact had not been lost on him and her words were a painful reminder that there would be others after him. Others charged with defending her. Would they do a better job than he had managed? Was he inadequate for the task? Would others be better suited to protect his closest and most trusted friend? Would she even be there to see that he was returned to the earth from which he had been born?

It pained him to her see her like this. “Do not misunderstand me, Kamalia,” Gromhir said after another short silence. The Kelvic shivered once more, his insides were a blizzard in a hellish tundra of emotions he understood little about. “I was but a pup then Kamalia. Life was different then. It was simple. I had no worries for a bondmate, for the dangers of the world. I was innocent and in need of a friend.”

For brief moment Kamalia caught a glimpse of the figures she had seen before. A man and a boy. There was pain, fear and loneliness in that same picture but it vanished leaving only the emotions that the Konti now realised were Gromhir’s. The Ivaski’s heart was heavy and crushing in his chest. He tried to smile but never made true eye contact with his bondmate.

“Lyeia showed me how to have fun, to play amongst the fields. She taught me the simple joys in life and I will never forget her for that. She taught me to laugh and smile. She taught me to play even as I grew. She… Lyeia was like a Mother to me. Nature led me to her, just as it led me to you but she was just a friend,” The Kelvic’s fists were balled tight and he was shaking. There was a silver flash on the Kelvic’s cheek even as he tried to look away from Kamalia.

[Kamalia Timandre]

The trees warbled their verdant hum as the silver pair stared at one another for moments in silence. The konti maiden had not misunderstood; she understood only too well. Even as Kamalia lamented the loss of her motherland, the women of the Konti Isle had been taught not too grieve over the past in excess. The gift of Sight, the single lilium mark of the seer, was plain and pure: to see the past, a luggage strapped at the back that none can lay away. For a diviner maiden who has gained a window she can peer through ever so often, to dwell in it was to become powerless. No seer had ever been known to have power over the past; they could only swathe it in oblivion or hurl it beyond the stars.

Kamalia rose from the green bedspread and swept the emerald leaves off her white raiment. A cross-draft rippled through the thick moon-silver hair that captured the morning star’s grace, adorned by the pristine amaryllis. In that instant, her mystic senses pulsated, and she saw the black scenes that had once shrouded her mind, that of a little child and a frail old person— shadows and silhouettes that collapsed in a macabre dance. The dark vision vanished as quickly as it came, and Kamalia found herself staring blankly at Gromhir’s features. She sensed his apprehension, his fears, his agony—residues of a harrowing memory that firmly tethered to his soul.

Even his smile, that beautiful, pained smile was too heartrending to watch.

The konti girl desired to see more of those dark fragments of his memory, more shards of a past long-concealed, to understand the entirety of his life, and weave them all together into a single mirror. She wanted him to disclose all the pain, all the grief, all the sorrow that he felt. Kamalia had long resolved to give Gromhir bright and vibrant memories, no matter how fleeting his life was. Her heart leapt when she saw a flash of silver tear that streaked down his face. She closed in to lay a slender hand down on the man’s balled fist, and soothed him with gossamer caresses. She could not withstand the pain he held so tightly. She dried the man’s tears with her silken hair and smiled at him tenderly.

Kamalia took a thick handful of silver mane in each hand and draped it over the kelvic’s broad shoulders. She entwined her arms around his neck and planted a soft kiss upon his cheek. A comfortable silence hung over them for a few moments before her voice shattered it. “Would you like to see her again?”

[Gromhir]

Gromhir flinched as Kamalia stepped towards him. What was he expecting her to do? He wasn’t sure he could truly answer that question. For all the compassion that the beautiful Konti Wizard possessed, he knew she could turn at the drop of a hat. He scolded himself, he doubted her again. She wouldn’t ever hurt him, would she? Again with the doubt. What was it that made him doubt her so? His humanity? Magic? What would she think if she found out? He didn’t want to loose her, to push her away.

However, Gromhir never expected or foresaw what actually took place between the bondmates. It was a particularly special action in itself persay. But it was so different what normally took place between the pair. Oddly enough, it was exactly what the Kelvic needed. Such a simple gesture but he knew and felt it had a lot more significance even if he didn’t understand what that was.

As she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek, Gromhir looked into Kamalia’s eyes. His eyes wide with surprise but he gave a shy smile, for that brief moment of silence, entwined together by Kamalia’s long locks of silver, the Kelvic seemed happy. While it may have been a fleeting moment for Kamalia, it was so much longer for the Ivaski. But for that quiet moment in time, Gromhir was happy.

“I am not sure that is a good idea,” Gromhir sighed. “But yes, I would like to see her again.” Gromhir wasn’t sure what he would say. But he couldn’t hide the truth forever; he couldn’t run from it forever. He needed to make amends for what he’d done. He knew that now more than ever.

“Would you come with me?” Gromhir asked after a few moments more silence. “I don’t want to travel alone and I would prefer to spend the night here. In the forest. With you if you’ll stay.” Gromhir looked into those twilit. There was loneliness in his own despite her presence right now. “I don’t want to be alone again, Kamalia.”

[Kamalia Timandre]

For long moments of comfortable silence, she and the man shared the familiar intimacy together, the connection that they once knew back then when their world still swam in an ocean of dreams and starlight. Everything seemed to have changed since then from the time they had been thrust from the dream and plunged abruptly into a gaping nightmare. Dolorous and broken, Kamalia thought she had lost everything, but through all those trying times, one precious thing remained: their bond that grew stronger and tougher each hellish ordeal as if it were a blade being tempered—a blade that must pass through the fire, else it will fracture.

The maiden’s eyes were full of life and vibrancy, her smile was starlight and her voice was song. She kept one arm draped around his broad shoulder while her other hand slowly traced the man’s lower lip. The joy that the man felt was as plain as the daystar to the konti’s natural empathy. Through their eldritch bond, Gromhir’s happiness suffused her heart as she touched his smile, and she pulled him closer to her. Time did not matter right now. Nothing else truly mattered this moment, not her magic, not her mystical homeland, not the fragility of life against time.

“Then we will,” the konti maiden replied softly, half-whispering, “we will see her together.” She picked up the man’s hand and cradled it against her cheek.

“I will stay with you. You will no longer be alone, Gromhir. I will show you a world that is worthy of you—a world that knows no pain or darkness. You will have no more need of tears,” she promised softly, before tenderly kissing the kelvic’s strong hand.

“You lie.”

A sudden and profound chill fell over Kamalia, freezing her, body and soul, like the embrace of a jealous spirit. After the initial shock, Kamalia recognized a familiar presence and sensation; the dark feelers of her fearsome magic coiled around her and attempted to snatch her heart from the happiness she felt with Gromhir.

In her mind’s eye, she saw an exact mirror of herself standing before a fallen ivaski, mutilated and lifeless, its fur soaked in its own blood. Her own visage turned to face her and stared at her with a dark smile and gleaming crimson eyes that shone with a sated malevolence. “It’s what you want. It’s all you ever wanted,” she murmured in a voice that was sultry and seductive.

Whenever love’s smoldering embers threatened to flame into something pure and bright, the konti wizard’s heart-fires were extinguished in blood. She struck aside Gromhir’s hand and backed away, wrapping her arms around herself and shaking her head from side to side in frantic denial. “No!”

“Back away! Back away!” the girl shrieked, her violet eyes wide with horror as she wrestled herself from the clutches of her own magic.

A jealous power.

[Gromhir]

Nature’s path was full of tests. This much Gromhir not only thought, he knew. He had experienced it first hand. Nature gave him tests and each one he had overcome had made him stronger. The same applied to everyone. Even the smallest insect could improve itself. But Kamalia and Gromhir had had more than their fair share of trials. Although he wouldn’t begrudge her because of it, it was a very dangerous and destructive thing. That much he also knew from more than just one experience.

As his hand touched her soft cheek, something spoke to him in the back of his mind. He felt the urge to return the kiss that she had given him but wasn’t entirely sure if he should. No longer alone. Gromhir knew he never would be alone again. Their bond had only been tempered and strengthened by their trials. Truly only death could break such a bond now.

He leaned forward but as he did he felt her tense up. Her body seemed to turn cold and he knew a vision had run through her mind once more. Was it his past? Was it that she knew what he was about to do and didn’t want to? Before he even had time to do anything more, she had thrust his hand away. For a long moment, Gromhir thought that she had pushed him away because of him, because of what he’d done or tried to do.

But then he realised. He could feel it through the bond and his empathy. That sickly feeling of magic creeping up on his Lady. It was foul and filled him with a sense of foreboding every time she cast a spell.

“Kamalia?” Gromhir stepped towards her, trying to get her to look at him, to find comfort in him. “Kamalia look at me.”

[Kamalia Timandre]

As Gromhir took a step towards her, the konti maiden shied away from him, flinging one hand toward him in vehement rejection. “No! Please don’t come any closer! Run,” she pleaded frantically, “or dash away. Anything, just do not get too close!”

Kamalia was neither pushing her guardian away to dismiss him nor was she fleeing from him; the kelvic knew that much. He would feel through their bond an intense, almost horrifying jumble of emotions that assaulted his powerful senses: intense fear tangled with magical lust and covetousness. Gromhir had felt this many times before through their bond, but never had he known such thirst and supernatural hunger that consumed the entirety of his lady’s heart. He would sense that Kamalia did not fear him, nor did she fear her own magic—she feared for him.

Another step closer and the chill intensified. Kamalia noted the pallor of her guardian’s face and the deathly blue hue that touched his lips. Her eyes widened, horrified, as her magic toyed with the fear that she felt.

“The end of your doubts. The end of your fears,” it whispered again, as if the speaker was close by, though the voice fell only on Kamalia’s ears. The siren whispers of her sorcerous addiction resonated within her soul, and the maiden found herself vulnerable and exposed as her will helplessly wrestled for control. She could feel the onset of the inevitable. Rage, fierce and possessive and all-consuming, rose in Kamalia like a flame.

Then it came, the rush of power and euphoric surge that coursed through her being. The girl’s hands lifted, without act of will, and pulses of silvery res coursed from Kamalia’s outstretched fingers. Gaseous djed swirled around the konti wizard, attracting wind power that flurried into a miniature whirlwind around her. Kamalia’s white hair danced to the wind and her silk cloak shadowed the air vortex’s movement.

Kamalia watched, helpless and despairing, as Gromhir walked steadily toward his death. “Gromhir, run!”

She could not hear his voice, much less her own. To Kamalia’s ears, the only sound was the wild, exultant laughter of her own voice that rang through her benumbed mind.

[Gromhir]

The Kelvic growled something fierce, deep and powerful as magic was brought forth into the air. It wasn’t clear if it was Common, Konti or Canine or a mixture of all. But there were strong emotions of his own surging through his veins. His heart thumped in his chest and ears, drowning out any sounds conjured by the wind.

Kamalia could suddenly feel anger. Not from her addiction, her magic but from Gromhir himself. The sight of magic used against him always brought this feeling first. As all consuming as Kamalia’s magic was, as alluring and powerful it seemed, Gromhir’s anger was greater. She had only felt it once before and that was during the game. It was something so pure and unrelenting. It seethed through every vein of her Kelvic Guardian and boiled underneath his skin.

Gromhir’s instinct for self-preservation kicked in. Two options: fight or flight. Kamalia was about to push him away, wanted him to run. But it was clear in that moment, in the feral sheen that had taken over the Kelvic’s usually soft eyes, the Gromhir’s hatred of magic stemmed far deeper than Kamalia had first thought. It wasn’t some prejudiced fear that Gromhir loathed the practice, it was completely clear to the Konti now that this abhorrence of her magic was far more deep rooted in his heart than she had ever even paid mind to.

Yet, in the face of it all, the Kelvic stood stoic as he always did. Never one to leave her side when she was in need. The Kelvic, in fact, continued to move towards her despite the buffeting gale. It wasn’t easy.

It seemed to Kelvic would be blown off his feet as he stumbled then suddenly his arm reached out grabbing her hand. It was strong but gentle and Gromhir pulled Kamalia towards him, wrapping her in his arms. “I am not running,” He spoke firmly, the anger still there. “I stopped running a long time ago.”

[Kamalia Timandre]

Once again, it was fire and it was ice. The kiss of magic, smouldering, burning, and scorching, fell upon her frozen soul. The freezing chill that enfolded her body quickly thawed as djed gushed from her mouth and from her hands, transmuting into sparkling silver gas that whirled about her form. The sensation of magic coursing inside her was thrilling and electrifying, as a crystalline laughter rang in her dazed mind. The air currents accumulated more power, building up a massive force and generating strong gusts that swept away leaves and flowers and little plants. She tried once again to scream, to plead with Gromhir to run away even as the laughter drowned out her own voice.

Kamalia felt the triumphant elation of her magic, and she was suddenly pummelled by a myriad of overpowering emotions—fear, lust, shock, loss. Yet her heart felt an emotion stronger and deeper still: anger. This emotion was not hers, but it was powerful enough that the konti’s seer sensitivities had perceived it even as a tempest of many other emotions stormed within her heart. The girl had rarely known Gromhir to feel such strong rage, and it surpassed her own thirst for spellcasting.

A sudden disorienting question struck the konti like one of her devastating gales as the man closed in. The strong abhorrence and enmity seeped in her heart and the girl quickly understood. Gromhir was planning to launch an attack against her. With the courage and defiance expected of a Timandre, the girl lifted her chin and closed her eyes.

Strike now. Avalis will guide you, the wizard thought.

A spurt of power—cold, dark and angry—shot up when Gromhir suddenly enfolded her lithe form in his powerful arms. She opened her eyes wide. The magic protested, but it was losing power, losing its hold upon the konti girl. The gales were not enough to send the man hurtling backwards through the air. Kamalia snatched this sliver of opportunity and struggled for control once again. It was a fierce battle, and she borrowed strength from Gromhir’s embrace. With the last vestiges of her power, Kamalia shut off the voice in her mind and tore herself from the clutches of magical addiction. Finally regaining control, the konti wizard manipulated her res, weaving intricate gestures, to slow down its circular movement, reducing the speed and velocity of the wind until it was only a gentle breeze.

And then the spell was finished and the corruption of magic was gone. Kamalia stared at Gromhir, frightened and utterly spent, struggling for breath as her entire body shook in convulsive tremors. Her face went pale, and her lips beggared colour. She tried to speak, but found she could not, so dry was her throat and so heavy the pain in her chest.

They clung together for several moments of silence, until she found the strength to speak once again. "Mother Avalis," she said in a despairing whisper, then closed her eyes in prayer.

[Gromhir]

As the Konti shuddered and prayed for guidance from her Goddess, as she became more and more aware of the true reality around her, she became aware that not all was as it had been. The Kelvic still held her protectively in his arms but he was obviously not himself. His grip was firm, uncomfortably so, on her. At first it seemed as though he was merely holding to make sure she was protected, to make sure she was back with him again. His chest rising and falling from the exertion of getting to his bondmate in the gale she had summoned.

But while this was partly true, the full magnitude of the situation was a lot different. His veins ran like liquid fire as the furious rage gushed inside him. His chest rose and fell sharply as he fought his own battle to control himself. She could hear his heart thumping, as wild as its owner, in his chest. The Kelvic was a fearsome sight to behold.

“If you did not wish to kiss me then you should have just said,” Gromhir growled, sharply. It was an awful attempt at sarcasm, warped by the anger he felt towards her magic. The Ivaski was oblivious to his grip on Kamalia or the harshness of his words.

[Kamalia Timandre]

The konti’s slender frame was draped limply against the man’s much larger body like a shed garment, light and wispy as a feather. A quiet prayer touched her lips, eyes closed, and she discerned the Seer Mother’s warmth once again enfold her soul, claiming her from the jealous, corrupting grasps of dark sorcery. The prayer was cut short, however, when she felt Gromhir’s embrace tighten into a choking clinch. The konti’s body was fragile and delicate, almost to the point of frailty, and it pained her so as he clutched her too tightly. Kamalia raised questioning eyes to the young man’s face. Gromhir held her tightly, but beneath her seeking hands, the muscles of his shoulders and chest and arms were tensed, forbidding.

For what seemed like a very long time, she and Gromhir merely stood and stared at each other, his embrace grew more painful, tighter and unbearable. It was obvious that the man was shocked by Kamalia’s magical outburst, but no more than Kamalia herself. Her magical addiction was getting worse, and her fear for Gromhir’s life and those of her loved ones returned to her at full strength. The konti shook her head in denial, terrified and fearful for her guardian’s life, terrified and fearful for committing another unforgivable sin, terrified and fearful of the Seer Mother’s rejection.

Her seer perceptions acknowledged Gromhir’s anger too, seething and simmering, that she could almost taste it in her tongue. Kamalia tried to slip from his arms but found she could not, her physical strength betraying her. She was stung by his accusation, but she quickly brushed aside the sarcasm in his voice. “It is jealous. My magic is being possessive of my emotions and I could not control my actions. I hear a voice in my mind. I must have taken leave of my senses.”

Kamalia suddenly remembered the first time she met Gromhir in the easternmost coasts of Sylira and her conversation with her younger sister Vidula, a heartseer and an apprentice healer of the Opal Order. Once she had only feared the arcane whispers, hearing Gromhir’s voice in her mind. It was not Gromhir’s mental whispers she heard now but temptations that were made all the more poignant for being torn from the fabric of her unspoken desires.

“Thank you for not leaving me to fight this battle alone, Gromhir,” she smiled weakly and serenely, “and I hope you do not mean to hurt me or suffocate me.”