Gallel's Heir Chapter 3.2: Death's Power

Instead of being given the opportunity of walking firm upon the world, he was denied this and sealed up into the void. He was old when the world was young, infinitely wise; now the world was old. He has spent this time waiting for Hallel to enter the world so that he might conquer his brother and seize his own destiny.
---Minara Elkek of Toopek

Dylin stood within arm's reach of the enemy, and as she held out her hand, the woman turned and grabbed her elbow. A strange redness shadowed the enemy's eyes, and the blue flames from her fingers cut livid lines over her beautiful face. She squeezed until Dylin's fingers went numb.

"You impudent little whore! Did you think I wouldn't sense you? Do you really think you could have even touched my wari? What did you think you could do to me? You have no power over me!"

Dylin managed only a gasp of pain and her heartbeat raced in her ears. The wari string to an unconscious Gizelle faded, yet pulsed with a cold light.

"How dare you try to defile me with your presence?" The enemy twisted, and as easily as with a chicken bone pulled the girl's arm from her body; the flesh hung in tatters as she tossed the arm aside. She clutched Dylin's neck and lifted her. Pulled her skull from her neck bones. Dylin's chest froze, her flesh chilled, stiffened. Breath was impossible. The enemy dropped her and she crashed to the ground, stiff as an armless statue.

"Now little whore, watch, see and learn the meaning of fear."

The enemy reached down to Gizelle's chest and lifted her to the tree; with a sharp tug, she tore her chest. Dylin felt the tug, as though her own chest had been attached to Gizelle's diaphragm; she felt nothing of her own body but cold. With the hand that held the blue flames, the enemy held Gizelle's heart, scarlet, pulsing, and glistening in the indigo dusk. The enemy closed her eyes, her face relaxed in ecstasy.

Gizelle slumped to the leafy dirt.

As light faded from vision, Dylin thought how strange her body looked from the side and upside down.

Minara held her old friend's heart, and with it, the center of her wari. Amazing how little blood flowed from a chest wound such as this: With no heart to pump the blood, the blood merely oozed. And with the wari-cauterizing of the flesh, little of it trickled out.

She touched the scarlet heart to the blue flames, an extension of her own energy, and when the flesh consumed, she absorbed the old woman's wari. She could almost see the energy billow and twist like a whirlwind, attracted to the flame. Her own heart quickened as the crone's potential extended the length of Minara's life, though Gizelle had lived so many years, absorbing her energy was hardly worthwhile.

"You have no power in this world now, Gizelle," she whispered. She stifled any feelings of regret that may have peeped into her mind. "You and Amara were my best friends, yet you betrayed me. Tavaris's way is better. Why can't you see it?"

Dylin stood in rainbow mists, exhilarated as though she flew on the wind. Brilliant cyan hung outside the mists, like she hung within a sphere. A golden-lavender thread stretched from her navel; she touched the shimmering umbilical cord. It sparkled with an energy she recognized as her own, tangible wari. Following it a few steps — time and distance seemed arbitrary — she came to a forest path. Though she stood above the path, the trees and autumn foliage failed to impede her view of two bodies lying below. Her thread connected to the twisted body on the right. The body on the left lay pale, with a bloody, mangled chest.

"You do not belong here," said a voice with all the love and tenderness of distant thunder.

Startled, Dylin turned around. Three lights suspended above her in mists of silver and gold. She squinted; focus elucidated. Amara and Gizelle smiled at her. A silvery thread connected Gizelle to her mangled body. The third light shined like a fearsome blaze, like lightning; Dylin took a step forward and the third figure clarified. It was the Escort, a man appearing in his prime, with eyes as ancient and confident as the stars. This figure had spoken.

"What happened?" she said.

"Minara took your life," said Amara. When Dylin had last seen her in Feer, she assumed her trainer had been in her fifties; now she could have been only a little older than Dylin. Gizelle also. Both shared a look, as though they were sisters or close relatives, with the same hair, eyes, and exotic bluish tint to their pale skin. They shared a look with Minara also, only where Minara's air evinced arrogance and spite, theirs showed love.

"I'm dead?" Cold filled her chest: Lianna would grow up without a mother, no one to protect her from the wolves in Gallel, the people who would destroy her soul in order to be privileged enough raise the heir.

"Your spirit is disconnected from your body," said Gizelle.

"The thread which binds you to your body remains intact," rumbled the Escort. It was a powerful voice, not unkind, yet she would not want to be on the receiving end of his anger. The vibrations alone could rattle her spirit, if not her disconnected bones. "I have yet to cut it. You do not belong here."

"Minara seeks power over death and life," said Gizelle.

"You must live and find happiness," said the Escort. "You must raise Lianna, for if you do not raise her, someone else in Gallel would. You have just cause to fear, for Minara would influence her nursemaid, and Lianna would grow and never find her true worth. A woman influenced by darkness would not instill within her the love and stability Hallel needs from her."

"You make it sound like I have no choice," said Dylin.

"I merely tell you the consequences of your choices," said the Escort. "You may remain here and let your body rot and the world fall into chaos. Or you may return to your body and experience the joy and sorrow of your life. You have yet to touch many, whom Hallel will need to free him from the bondage Tavaris has planned." He pulled iridescent shears from his golden belt; the shears shimmered as did her thread of wari. "This is the Kal Tai, which cut the thread connecting the spirit to the body. I will not cut your wari at this time, whether you stay here or return. With your wari connected to earth, you may not enter the Otherworld, but you may remain in this void between the worlds until your appointed time."

"I will go back and raise Lianna, of course," said Dylin.

"We have here two powerful mages," said the Escort. "With your wari still uncut, they have power to heal you. Amara will heal your body, and I will send Gizelle back to her body in order to fill your mind with what you need to know to find wholeness."

"Minara took her heart..." said Dylin. "And my head is off. And my arm..."

The Escort smiled grimly. "I am called Death by some, because I have power over death. It is indeed time for Gizelle to join us in the Otherworld; however, we want you to know what she would have taught you, had she been spared."

"Why... did she want me dead?" said Dylin. "I didn't even know her."

"To keep you from raising Lianna," said Amara. "And because you were with Gizelle. You have made a dangerous enemy, dear. When I left her years and years ago, I knew she would not leave me alone forever. I feared her then, and I still fear her."

He stood next to Dylin's corpse and touched his hand to its head, as did Amara and Gizelle. Music filled the void, an enchanting harmony of three powerful voices, a thunderous baritone, an alto and soprano echoing each other. The Escort adjusted her head and placed her severed limb next to the elbow it belonged to. Amara and Gizlle danced above him. Brightening light brought out Dylin's creamy flesh, color infusing her cheeks once again. She might have been asleep on the leaves.

"Your time to return to your body is nearly come," said the Escort. "Gizelle's time to pass into the Otherworld is at hand. Many await her return to us. But first..."