Picking up the pieces - Nara'ia Goldflame

[puckwolf]

It was dark in her world.

Her eyes were dead and gone; beneath the newly grown lids were itchy, empty sockets.  A bitter part of her subconscious wondered if perhaps she looked less like a freak without the glowing purple orbs.  Another thought, equally bitter, pointed out that her pale white skin and black and red markings which (probably) still adorned her face, would continue to label her as a monster.  

Sometimes she would forget and try to scratch her eye sockets with hands that were no longer there.  Her arms were gone from the elbows down, and her legs were merely stumps protruding from a torso.  She could still pretend though that she was whole, no one could stop her from wiggling phantom toes.

Soon, promised the clerics.  Soon her limbs and eyes would be returned to her, but for now, in her weakened state, she needed to endure.

Endure while her mind betrayed her constantly, forcing memories she would have rather forgotten to cycle continuously through the fragile blackness.  Those newest memories were fuzzy and confusing, but the torment their wrath brought was nearly unbearable.

She reminded herself to recite her prayers, to push away the horrors of this existence by utilizing the strength His love and hope provides.

Concentrate, don’t give into the despair.


“Lend me your strength in times of need
In darkness with my heart in chains
Your light still shines across the sea
And I forget my earthly pains.”


Dear gods they itch so badly!  She raised an arm to scratch the cursed sockets.

She’d forgotten again.

The howling winds of the Barovian night pounded against Nara’ia’s window, drowning out the sounds of her broken sobs.  

[puckwolf]

She lay awake, staring absently at the ceiling.  Her fresh eyes burned from overuse, sending waves of agony through her skull, but the pain was preferable over the inevitable nightmares that would visit during sleep.

Her gaze turned to Zack for a moment.  The young man snoozed softly, hunched over in his chair by the edge of her bed; he’s hardly left her side in three days.  She knew she hasn’t been the easiest of people to deal with lately, having been prone to varying mood swings and random bouts of insanity.  Through it all, however, Zack has remained patient, caring and rather considerate.  He brings her food, delivers her messages and carries her to the bath, even turning his back so she could bathe.

Zack was truly a kind soul, and deserved all the happiness in the world.

She turned her eyes back towards the ceiling, her smile disappearing as she recalled something mister Turner had said to her earlier that day.

“Why do you stay, Nar’ia Goldflame?  I can understand why you did so before, you had your marriage with Kane, your job in the militia, and your friends.  How many of those are still around?”

The question hit her like a punch to the gut.  Was she deluding herself?  Trudging on blindly in a world that no longer held a place for her?

She just wanted to scream out about how unfair it all was.  Why would the gods be so cruel as to allow her to fall in a love with a man who’d ultimately abandon her?  Why would they take away so many of her friends, and leave her behind a failed, broken and pathetic husk?  Has she truly outlived her role, only clinging on to this life because of sheer stubbornness?

She observed her surroundings bitterly with forced smiles while others found happiness, and she hated herself for it.  She hated the jealousy she felt for those who were still able to dream.

She hated that she’d begun to doubt the Dawn.

A snort from Zack caught her attention.  He scratched his nose sleepily before falling back into slumber.

A small smile crept across her face, her eyes squinting painfully against the early morning rays.  She had lost a lot, and seen more horrors than her stuttering mind could even process, but she also had a wonderful group of friends.  These people were, and always will be her family.

Not everything that’s been broken can be fixed, but even an ugly vase whose pieces are crudely glued back together can hold flowers.

It was time to stand up and start gathering the pieces.

[puckwolf]

Rest would not come to her that night.  She knew the Nightmare Man would be waiting for her in the dream realm, eagerly feeding off of her insecurities and twisting her fears into unbearable knots of agony.

And oh did she have fears.

Nara’ia laid a piece of paper out on the desk and dipped her quill into a vial of ink.  She took a moment to glance back at the door, hoping that any minute now he’ll walk in.  He’ll tell her everything is fine and then insist she get some rest.  Maybe he’ll ask her what spells she currently has memorized.

But no one came through the door.

She returned her gaze back to the blank page in front of her and began to write.



Dear Father,

Have I called you that before?  You’ve mentioned you thought of us, Sedrik and myself, as your children, but I do not recall if I’ve told you I felt the same.  At any rate, I am writing you because Jinx had a terrible vision the other night. She is afraid something bad may have befallen you.  I know you’re a very busy person, but I’d really appreciate it if you could reach out and contact one of us.

The more I wait for you to return, the sicker I grow with worry.  It seems I’ve become dependent on you, relying on your advice, your protection, and your company to help get me through these dark days.  I attribute much of my successes to your guidance and I can only hope I’ve made you proud in the process.

Thank you for being my teacher, my mentor, my father and my friend.

All I ask is the gods please be kind and allow me to see you at least one more time so I may tell you in person that I love you.


Forever and Sincerely yours,

Nara’ia



She looked over the note for a few moments.  When she was finally satisfied, she folded the paper up carefully and sealed it closed with her ring.

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, and she stayed that way for the remainder of the night.  Sitting alone in a chair, crying softly over a letter that would never be delivered.

[puckwolf]

This was written by Vespertilio, about Nara'ia from Jinx's point of view.  It's a rewrite of the song Hallelujah by  Leonard Cohen.   This is a link to the song sung by Jeff Buckley:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AratTMGrHaQ

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Well I know there is an inner light
Unveiled, will pierce the very night
But the price is high, it cost whoever knew ya
When it comes to this
I'd be remiss to mention there's no sacred bliss
Just pressing on till dawn and Hallelujah

Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah...

Well the Baleful Eye is yours to keep
Come morning I'll be losing sleep
Over faith and fate and who knows really, do ya?
But the truth is neither here nor there
It comes unbidden to you where
ever rings a chorus of hallelujah

Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah...

And heroes there have been before
their names you'll keep forever more
each one left a mark that goes right through ya
You kept those fires on the hill
and in your heart you stoke them still
A flickering and feeble hallelujah

Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah...

Is there time enough to really know
What's going on so deep below
When secrets fade before they're revealed to ya
But don't forget it's never clear
exactly why we're ever here
but every breath you draw sings hallelujah

Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah

Hallelujah...

Well maybe there's a thing as fate
Doomed to love all that you hate
and all you love just went and slipped right through ya
It's not the will that keeps you strong
It's not the sense that you belong
It's a bold and it's a timeless hallelujah

Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelu...
Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelu...
Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah

Hallellllluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuujjjaahhhh...Hallelllluuuuuujjaaaaaaaaaahhhhhttp://

[puckwolf]

“…keep it secret”

The area appeared to have been inhabited once, but now it lay ruined under burnt rubble and ash.  It was destroyed, and done so recently.  Somehow she felt as if she had been there before, even though she had no memories of it.

Waves of loneliness filled her being as she explored the familiar, yet unfamiliar territory.  She could not recall their names or their faces, but she felt grief for the ones who were gone.  Her memories flooded hazily somewhere in the subconscious of her troubled mind, and there they remained.  How frustrating it was not to remember.

It was almost surreal.  Visions of secrecy, and of the castle…

The castle where Corvin and Ana lost their lives, where Lyrithean and Raywyn vanished not to be seen again, and what has happened to Meik and Konrad?

Her mind raced as she carefully searched through each stone, each shattered remnant in hopes of finding something, anything to help her figure it out.   She wanted to know who lived here and what had become of them.

And how she was connected.

The floating piece of armor, which she surmised was a guardian of sorts, told her this was a place she no longer belonged.  What choice did she have but to accept his words?

With a heavy heart she returned to the exit, all she had found amongst the debris was one book and several unanswered questions.  Before making her way back up through the collapsed stairwell, something caught her attention out the corner of her eye.

Lying atop a stone was a raven’s feather.

She knelt down and picked it up carefully. 

“Keep the black feather….keep the black feather secret.”

The words entered her mind as she stared at the feather, twirling it gently between her thumb and index finger.  She did not understand what it all meant, but she would do it.  She would hold on to the memory of whatever it was this place stood for.

She would become the keeper of the black feather.

[puckwolf]

The first thing she noticed upon regaining consciousness was the smell.  

The stench of death and decay was so putrid her insides twisted, reeled and ached as she was overcome with a feeling of unbearable nausea.  Her feverish mind wondered if the sick odor of rot was spreading its vileness throughout her body with each breath she took.  She shuddered, terrified of what she might see when she opened her eyes, so she kept them shut and breathed through her mouth.

The second thing she noticed upon regaining consciousness was the cold.

She curled up into a ball and shivered violently in a desperate attempt to retain heat.  This feeling was familiar to her, it was a kind of chill that penetrated her bones and reverberated through her soul.  Her heart pounded rapidly as it worked hard to restore the precious blood she knew the monster had taken from her.

The third thing she noticed upon regaining consciousness was the reality of her surroundings.

She knew she was lying on top of something soft and wretched.  Wetness dripped from the ceiling covering her with foul water as the sound of buzzing filled her ears.  It took a few moments, but she finally gained the courage to open her eyes and face the inevitable.

Bracing herself did little to relieve her horror.  A pile of corpses in various states of decay lay beneath her, staring through her with dead, accusing eyes.

With a shrill cry, she leapt off the mountain of death and crawled hurriedly to the corner of her cell.  She choked back a sob as she discovered the fingers on both her hands to be gone.  Hunching forward miserably she did as she has always done when finding herself in such terrifying conditions; she murmured prayers to the Morninglord obsessively.

A movement on her thigh distracted her from her prayers.  Her eyes widened as she made out the shapes of fat maggots crawling all over her body and nipping at her flesh.  She desperately tried to wipe them off with the palms of her hands and while some fell to the floor others burrowed successfully into her skin.

She turned her head to the side and vomited, leaving a puddle of stomach acid on the already filthy floor.

“Oh bun, you are awake Nara’ia.”

The voice sounded like the labored screams of a million souls trapped in eternal damnation.

“You may write a letter to your friends....”  He stopped himself, an amused but cruel smirk on his face.  “Oh dear I had forgotten you lost your fingers.  What a pity, little witch.”

Tired of looking upon his face, Nara’ia lowered her eyes to the floor.

“I will make you a deal,” he peered down at her.  “You may become my bride and join with me for all of eternity.  Together we will rule Barovia.”

Nara’ia tilted her head back and gazed at the vampire incredulously.  

“What say you?”  He smiled evilly.  “Speechless?”

She waited a moment before spitting at his feet.

Leo frowned in disapproval.  “Is that all you have to say then?”

“You will never get the sword.”

“Oh but they will bring it to me, in exchange for your life.”  He smiled, confident in what was to come.  “Farewell.”  His body shifted into a cloud of mist, and then he was gone.

The elf fell in and out of consciousness over the next few hours.  At times she would forget where she was and murmur words to people who were not there.  She felt ill, and the rational portion of her mind reasoned she was sick with fever.  All there was for her to do was to wait and to endure.

Leo returned the following evening.

“Your friends will come for you soon.” He spoke.  “What do you think about that my dear? Isn’t that progress?”

She inclined her head towards him, delirious and confused.  “They’ve given you what you want?”

“Not yet,” he responded.  “But soon.  It is all prepared.”

Leo misted into the cell and hovered over her body, his red eyes staring at her with a predatory gaze.  He knelt down and gathered her into his arms before sinking his fangs into her neck.  She gasped and twitched as he fed.

When he was finished, Leo procured a dagger from his belt and held it against the side of her neck.  “Farewell,” he whispered.  “Until we meet again.”  He drew back the blade and swung swiftly.

Nara’ia fell into darkness.

[puckwolf]

She sat up quickly upon awakening and immediately regretted the movement as waves of agony shot through the stumps where her hands used to be.  Leaning back against the cold, stone wall she surveyed her surroundings in confusion.  Her wheezy breaths neared the rate of hyperventilation as her mind began to panic.

"Where am I?"

The citadel.  She remembered.  I am a prisoner of the Vallaki guards, not Leo.

She released a sigh of relief.  Better to be in the hands of the humans than to be the prisoner of an ancient evil vampire.  It did not mean, however, she was particularly pleased with her current situation.  The cell was cold and damp and the patch of slimy moss she used as a bed was not very comfortable.  Her stomach growled often, displeased with her new diet of mainly bread and water, and the constant dripping in the corner was near maddening.  Worst of all was the throbbing pain in her stumps.

The wounds had been cauterized with fire, but they hardly appeared to be healing.  Blood and clear fluids oozed through the burnt flesh and that, along with the smell, led her to believe they were already infected.

When she first woke up in the temporary holding cell they told her she would need to answer a few questions.  If she cooperated she would be released soon.

She answered their questions, and they took her hands.

Nara’ia banged her head back against the wall and moaned in frustration.  She missed the sun and the clean air and her friends.  She missed Bernard.  

Something broke inside of her when he came to visit and she sobbed, truly sobbed, for the first time since this whole ordeal began.

She tilted her head and stared forward at the opposing wall.  Memories flooded through her mind, but they were disjointed and confusing.  Her mind was growing weaker and dimmer, she realized.  How much longer until she lost it completely?

Nara’ia curled back up in her bed of moss and stones and fell into an uneasy reverie.  Sometime later, the agonized screams of an unfortunate prisoner woke her from her temporary refuge.  Her glossy, bloodshot eyes explored the cell and she panicked.

"Where am I?"

[puckwolf]

She called out his name, her heart pounding as she splashed carelessly through the cold muddy puddles.  Rushing upstairs to the platform she skidded clumsily to a halt, narrowly avoiding barreling into the swinging body.  His body convulsed one final time before growing limp.  At the mercy of death, he rocked silently against the harsh night winds of Barovia.

Gavril Costirceanu was dead.  

Nara’ia fell to her knees, the rest of the world moving in slow motion around her.  She was vaguely aware of brother Chang’s presence, and of his soft heartfelt prayers while he cut the rope and retrieved the fallen man’s sword.

The corpse dropping before her broke the elf out of her trance.  She blinked a couple of times before crawling closer to the broken body.  Gavril’s rough, bark-like skin glistened in the moonlight, a thin trail of blood flowed from the nostrils of his pig nose.

The disfigured face was ugly.  Some might argue it was a reflection of his true inner self, the appearance of a sadistic, hateful monster incapable of compassion or mercy.  Having been on the receiving end of Gavril’s uncontrollable rage, there was no doubt in Nara’ia’s mind the man had been a brute.  During his life he’d committed a number of unspeakable cruelties upon undeserving victims and appeared to show little to no remorse for his violent actions.

Nara’ia placed her hand gently upon Gavril’s ridged cheek and furrowed her brow in thought as she studied his face.  There was another side to this man that most people did not see.  A side that was loyal to his friends and to the country he loved above all else.  

Nearly half a year ago, circumstances had forced the two of them to push aside their mutual dislike of each other and to work together.  In that time Nara’ia discovered how tormented the infamous Barovian really was, and how his unyielding sense of duty served as motivation for every action he took.   He even began to treat her somewhat respectfully and with what could have been perceived as kindness.  For an angry, traditional local who was about as racist as they come, this “almost” friendship with a “bun for nothing fey” was an encouraging step in the right direction.

It was unfortunate that their progress would be shattered by the failing sanity of his troubled mind.  

An evening in the Village, which should have remained uneventful, resulted in a loss of control that, despite her fuzzy memory of the incident, still haunted her dreams to this day.  Never before had she been the target of so much fury and hatred.

Nara’ia knew it was an accident.  That Gavril’s mind was degrading along with his already very tenuous grip on reality.  He had no memory of what had transpired, and she chose not to tell him.

But she never forgot.

She stood up and watched as Chang lifted the body from the ground.  They would bring Gavril to the citadel so he could be given a proper soldier’s burial, it seemed only right.

They marched in relative silence, a short procession through the Vallaki streets.

Nara’ia’s gaze remained lowered as she walked; her feelings conflicted.  Did Gavril deserve forgiveness for all he had done?  Would he even have wanted it?

Upon reaching the citadel gates, Nara’ia looked him over for the final time.  Knowing it would be her last opportunity to do so, she placed her hand over Gavril’s arm and whispered into his ear.

“I forgive you.”

The large gates opened and a guard stepped out to retrieve the news and the corpse.

“We’ll let you know when Krovache decides wha’ to do with ‘im.  Was friends.  Not easy for ‘im.”

“I am sorry for his loss,” Chang offered, bowing his head.

“Multumesc but empty words outlander, you don’t care!  Jus’ another iadul Barovian, nu?”

His body was taken away and the door slammed shut.

Nara’ia made her way back to the outskirts with Jinx.  “Know you care rabbit,” the other elf told her. “Still do, it shows.”  She just nodded wordlessly in response, raising her hood and lowering her head to hide her expression.

For better or for worse she chose to forgive him, and to remember him.  After all, one of the saddest things in the world is to be forgotten and no one should have to be alone.

Sleep well domn Costirceanu, your memory is safe with me.