Five

Teminon landing was all a bustle again. Tox stopped a harried looking Shugo pushing a cart of supplies and asked what was new. The Shugo told us another skirmish had broken out between a group of Elyos and a band of Asmodians at the Eastern Shard again, and that the fight had been steadily growing, neither side prepared to admit defeat. Tox's face transformed in that moment, from semi bored and carefree to an evil little look that screamed he was hell bent on destruction, complete with vicious icy grin. He was gone in a flash, leaving Aalairius and I standing there giving one another a dubious and knowing look as we followed to the transportation Daeva.

Here we go again.

As the Aether vortex spit us out the other side, spilling us onto the green stone of the landing, we knew this was not as bad as we initially thought. The numbers on both sides were fairly even and small, barely enough to fill an Alliance on either side. The din was not as incredible as it had been in past battles, but still managed to reach the crescendo of a dull roar. I could see Toxemia ahead, flitting in and out of the fray, blades glinting and flashing in the muted light of the cavern.

Aalairius and I moved forward, my prayers springing to my lips unbidden, working their way out from my throat clearly and concisely, both healing my people and damaging the Asmodians that affronted them. We were there such a very short time and just beginning to warm up to the fray when it happened... I heard a clear strong and beautiful voice, speaking a foreign tongue to my ear, but still so familiar. I fought on, and tried to put it from my mind when from the other side I saw the arc of a staff and a flash of garnet red...

No, my horrified mind rebelled ageist me... It could not be it wasn't...

I raised my shield and fended off an Asmodian Ranger's arrow, and Chastised him with one of my spells when I heard it... so old but so familiar, something I haven't heard since before the Cataclysm, a familiar voice shouted in Olde Daevic, stilling my Mace mid-swing and shocking me out of reality...

“Hello Sirona!”

I turned, and everything stopped for me, my voice died on my lips, as I saw her, pale skin and sea green eyes, hair long and lovely and the color of spun garnets... Her face was the same, as was her voice, just as it had been in my dream, just as it had been in my memory... Evensong stood before me. My friend, not dead but alive... not dead, but an Asmodian.
  
My world imploded, a Templar on the Asmodian side took the opportunity, and seized me with blue chains and pulled me into the midst of the Asmodian camp and I did not care, I did not really feel it as they beat my body into submission forcing it into the torpor of being too injured to move. I vaguely heard Aalairius roar his defiance before I just simply gave up... allowing my body to flow into the Aether, coming to my self back at Teminon beside the Obelisk my soul was bound to.

Evensong had not died, she was alive.

She was alive.

She was my enemy?





Thank you to Evensong, for her beautiful 'self portrait' of her character for this post.