Not to Die, but to Be Reborn
89th of Glade, Year 390 of the Age of Sundering
She arrived to hear the sergeant reporting what had happened to the higher-ups. Endrik was already there, his eyes intent but his expression unreadable. They were ushered together to form a rescue plan. Jerys was explaining what little information that he was given to him. Undead. Two cultists. Veriel sending everyone away to face them alone. The moment the sergeant pointed at a spot on the map, Endrik stormed out of the tent, ignoring everyone who called out to him. It was obvious what he was doing. Nasyra ran out just in time to see two great gray wings flap before the avialae shot into the sky.
All she could think was she was going to lose both of them. “You fucking idiot! Endrik! You’ll get yourself killed!”
But the avialae ignored her, didn’t even spare a look back. That idiot didn’t have any weapons on him. He wasn’t even wearing any armor.
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She must be dead.
That was the first thought that came to her head when Nasyra landed her eyes on the figure in Endrik’s arms. Veriel’s head rested limply against the kathar’s chest, her black hair matted with dirt and blood. There were gashes in her armor, left by some claws that would tear through steel. Her left arm was hanging down, bent into an unnatural angle. But the most horrifying thing was the disfigured wooden stake protruding from her stomach. Every inch of her was drenched in red. The rise and fall of her chest was so shallow and far apart that she almost missed it.
The healers had been ready, waiting for Endrik’s return - including her. She opened her mouth to order them to bring Veriel to the tent but no sound could come out. A sob escaped instead. Knight-Captain Laregin, a healer also marked by Ioniri, took charge. She sent everyone to prepare for surgery and ordered the avialae to place the siltori on the bed.
When Nasyra finally looked up to see Endrik’s face... In all the years she had known him, this was the first time she had ever seen tears running down the knight-commander’s face.
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First, she heard the rain, the thousand drops that shattered upon the earth. Then it was the rustling of clothes as people moved around, familiar voices murmuring in concern. Veriel tried to open her eyes. For a moment, it felt impossible - like someone had glued her eyes shut. Her heart pounded as panic shot through her. She started moving restlessly,
She didn’t know how long it took but when her eyelids finally flew open, her silvery-grey orbs were looking at three familiar faces. They were all standing over her with wide eyes. Nasyra, Thaddeus and… Lorgan? She looked around the room, but there was no one else. There was no denying the disappointment that settled in her chest.
Nasyra was the first to move. She fell onto her knees and grabbed the siltori’s hand. It was startling to see the tears pooling in her eyes. “I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t just leave us.”
“Leave? What are you talking about?” Her voice sounded like sandpaper. The siltori started to rise when a sharp pain flared in her stomach and she winced. Oh. Right. The memories of that day rushed into her mind like an avalanche. She turned to Lorgan. “Did everyone make it okay?”
“Easy,” Thaddeus said as he helped her into a sitting position, his hand on her back as support. It was almost funny how uncharacteristically gentle he was. She must have given them quite the scare. “Yeah, everyone is fine. We have even relocated the villagers to a nearby town. They all came to see and thank you while you were asleep.”
“That’s good to he-” She stopped as a cough seized her. Lorgan leaped to his feet and went around looking for a glass of water before finally handing it to her. The knight seemed mostly unharmed. Considering how fast he was pacing around, his ankle must have completely healed then.
Some time had clearly passed. “How long was I out?” She looked down at her own arms. Most of the bruises were almost invisible and her open wounds had been sewn together. She raised her left hand to brush away a strand of black hair that had fallen over her eyes but the movement felt stiff, almost heavy. At least, everything looked fine. Her stomach churned as she recalled how it had been deformed before. With her right hand, she raised the cup to her lips and drank slowly.
“Twenty days,” Lorgan chimed in, shifting on his feet nervously before. The guilt in his eyes was obvious. As she lowered the glass, he moved quickly to take it away from her.
She blinked. “What? Twenty?”
“You almost died, Veriel. You probably should have,” Nasyra said grimly, squeezing her hand gently before letting go. She started fidgeting with her braided brown hair. “When Endrik brought you back… You were barely breathing. People had been saying that the only reason you survived must be because of the mark.”
“What mark?”
Seeing her bewilderment, the three looked at each other. Nasyra suddenly stood up and started pushing Thaddeus towards the tent opening. “You should wait outside.” She pointed at Lorgan. “Go get Knight-Commander Shiryo. He would be pissed enough that he was not here when Veriel woke up. Let’s not add ‘failing to tell him she’s awake’ as fuel to his fire.”
Once the men were out, Veriel couldn’t help herself. “Where is he?”
“Knight-Commander Ordwil had to practically drag him out of here a few hours ago to attend a meeting with the other spellforgeds. Let me help you stand,” the half-dratori said gently as she moved to her side. Despite the pain, Veriel managed to throw her legs to the side of the bed. “In case you were wondering, Endrik had spent most of his free time glued to your bedside. He had been out of wits ever since he found you that day. He’s been glaring at everyone.”
Ah, so she was right then. The voice that called out her name just before she fainted was Ryo. Nasyra moved to stand in front of her and helped her up. It was awkward and they nearly fell three times, but eventually, Veriel managed to stand on her own two feet - well, while leaning on her friend slightly. Together, they shuffled across the room until they were standing in front of a mirror.
“You should take off the robe. You’ll see what we mean earlier,” the woman said softly.
Slowly, Veriel opened her robe. Someone had kindly put a breastband on her, but that wasn’t the thing that drew her eye. It was something below it. While a part of it was covered by the band, there was no mistaking the intricate golden sun drawn on the tip of her sternum, its arms flaring out. She let her finger brush against the marking. She couldn’t tell if she was imagining it, but it seemed to glow at her touch. “This is…”
“Eminence, yes. Arcas chose you,” Nasyra explained, looking proud. “When we took off all your clothes and saw the mark, I think everyone in the room stood frozen for a moment.” A justiciar wasn’t all that common, even in their ranks. There were quite a handful certainly, but few enough that most of the knights knew who exactly were marked. Veriel was not on that list.
It made the siltori smile a little. “People must have been shocked. The mage who curses people with horrendous deaths is favored by the god of hope and light.” Once in a while, the siltori would hear whispers from the people who thought her style of fighting was… distasteful, to put it mildly. Apparently, using trickery and curses was dishonorable and she should be ashamed. Of course, they were idiots. Why did matter what tool she used as long as she brought down the monsters? Still, Veriel was just as confused. “I… I remember a man approaching me, telling me that it wouldn’t be the day I did. That’s… Arcas? But why would he mark someone like me?”
“Other than you practically sacrificing your life for your comrades and a bunch of villagers?”
Veriel shook her head. Her hand went to the wound on her stomach. “It’s not like I chose to sacrifice myself. I went up against enemies and I wasn’t strong enough. It’s not some noble gesture, it just seems like the most logical option at the time.” It was their duty as dawnmartyrs, so that couldn’t possibly be the reason. “Most of the people here would have done the same. You would. Ryo would. Even Thaddeus.”
“You actually did it, though. Most people would have died from the wounds you sustained, but the Lightbringer chose to keep you alive. He must have his reasons.” She sighed and squeezed Veriel’s arm. “Rather than pondering over the reasoning of the divine, I’m just grateful you’re still here. What would have I done without you, Veriel?”
They both snapped their head to the tent entrance when they heard heavy footsteps coming closer. There were sounds of conversation and a very clear where is she.
Nasyra grinned. “Ah, he got here even faster than I expected. Better put your robe back on before that idiot barges in.”
