That Which Cannot Be Healed

Nànirryi Island, Pìchous

28 Fyrva, 1 Ur

"She's alive but turning translucent," the Communer anxiously noted, examining his unconscious leader while trying to maintain his composure for the sake of the remnant of his people, "and completely beyond normal healing powers. Did anyone think to gather Lunarblooms while awaiting Her return? Because if not, then we have lost Her!"

A slight cough from behind him made him turn around, and he took a sharp intake of breath. Every one of the two hundred strong Aeyvormii was holding at least one Lunarbloom. In the time between their evacuation and the three leaders' return, Nànirryi Island had been stripped of every single one of them.

It will probably become known as Nirryi Island in the future, the Communer thought, the Island of All will be called the Island of Naught, if it even has a future.

While the use of Lunarblooms had been common for the Aevyormii, they had always left a certain number to ensure that it repopulated. As they could no longer call this place home, their devotion to their leader took precedence over everything else. The flowers would no longer be found on Nànirryi Island. But they knew they had little choice in the matter, and only hoped Erdé would forgive them.

Each Aevyorm slowly walked past She of the Few with wings drooping, and placed their bloom somewhere on Her body, being honourable and respectful in their choice of position. Once most of Her was covered, the remaining flowers were gathered into a heap and showered over Her to complete the blanket.

"She must be completely restored. All of Her," one Aevyorm solemnly noted.

And She would be.

Hopefully, the Communer thought.

Casting a final glance over the floral mound, he wiped his eyes and turned to face his people.

"Today, an unspeakable horror has been visited upon us. But it cannot tear us apart as their curse did not tear Her apart. While normally you rely on the Three to ensure we live at peace with the Elements, today we shall all be Communers. If you placed a flower on Her, you desire life over death. Hope over despair. Reparation over destruction. Focus on that, open your hearts and minds to Savàni to whom we all owe our lives, and She will be saved."

While some chose to kneel and face Her, others turned away or stood with eyes closed, or laid down with their feet towards Hers. None presumed equality by laying their heads in Her direction.

As the Communer was about to begin his preparations, a shift in the Element of Erdé caught his attention. The very summoning rock that had served as the conduit for their escape also opened the way for another being who lowered his hood, revealing an expression of weighty anxiety. He looked this way and that, desperately searching for something - or someone. Not wishing to alert his fellows, who were now devoting their minds to the re-energising of Her, the Communer stepped cautiously into the stranger's field of vision.

"Keep your voice low, but state your purpose quickly, for you are Parànti and therefore the cause of our woe," he said, drawing a black-flowering Branch from his sleeve.

Y'kàndrà, still harried, finally saw the pile of Lunarblooms and stifled a cry.

"No..., I am... too late?" he asked, his voice trembling, "and please, you need not point that at me."

"If you meant to utterly finish Her then even you will find yourself sorely outmatched," the Communer replied, "In case you hadn't noticed, we only act in self-defence. But if you force us..."

"You misunderstand," Y'kàndrà replied in a whisper, "I came to help restore her, but you seem to be burying her. Well, not burying but honouring her somehow before her body disappears."

The Communer sighed but kept the Branch in his hand. He could not shake the feeling that there was yet no positive change in the state of She of the Few.

"And you misunderstand, because you know not our people, nor the land. Though at least you remembered something about the way we return to our source after dying," he acknowledged through strained patience, "Lunarblooms give life to those who may be on the brink of losing it, but cannot restore the dead. Through them and the Elements, we will save our leader before permanently leaving this land."

"Then may I help?" Y'kàndrà asked, "Search my intentions if you will, stand between me and your queen and stop me mid-incantation if you suspect malign intention, but please do not prevent me from providing something good."

"Before I can grant that, why, after you aided a people in slaughtering us and seizing our lands, would you want to provide something good?"

Y'kàndrà closed his eyes briefly to collect his thoughts.

"Because I must. Because I want to. Because I let myself be misused to serve another's agenda. Because I have left them to their own devices and I will never return to them. And because I will be alone after today and this may be the last chance I get," the Mage managed, rubbing his eyes from emotional and mental exhaustion.

The Communer glanced around to ensure no one had been disturbed before returning his gaze to Y'kàndrà. He nodded.

"Very well, but I will do as you suggest and stand between you and Her."

"I understand. After today, should you ever need me, I will make my home to the Sùda of Ousèthkièl but Nùormà of the Granath. I will not flee my past, but be accountable for it."

"You mean to inhabit Zykyrn Pilkarrz?" the Communer asked, concerned, "are you sure that's wise?"

"Wise?" Y'kàndrà shook his head, "Nothing that took place today was wise. I can purge that foul place and forever stand against Qal'ath."

"But what will you stand for?" the Communer challenged him.

Y'kàndrà considered that for a moment.

"Justice," he decided.

"And not revenge?"

"Though there be a fine and often blurred line between them, no. It's time I undo one injustice from today. It does not forgive or absolve me, I know."

And that very question will determine the type of race we become too, the Communer thought, and that will not be decided simply by building a new roost somewhere.

And with that, Y'kàndrà began his incantations, daring not to address the Elements directly but weaving his desperate pleas for life with those of the Aevyormii. As he did, the Lunarblooms began to glow with a light of their own making, before pulsating with a discernible throbbing sound.

Pulse, throb, dim.

Pulse, throb, dim.

Pulse, throb, dim.

The flowers dissipated, their energy spent in a gentle shower of pinprick lights. Everyone ceased their pleas, prayers, chanting and mental struggles. Not a single Aevyorm made a sound as their eyes remained fixed on She of the Few. There was only silence.

A void that seemed to span an Elements-forsaken eternity.

"Well, are you going to help me stand, or not?" She of the Few grumbled.

A wave of relief gushed across the island.

"My Lady...may I take your hand to assist you?" the Communer asked, gazing down in awe at the love of everyone's life.

"Not this time," She replied to his shock, "the Parànt must do it."

Y'kàndrà looked around in fear. He was outnumbered, outmatched and had not planned for an exit strategy should the 'anchor stone' he had discovered not have a return path. And now he felt everyone's eyes on him.

He shuffled forward to the prostrate leader of the Aevyormii and knelt at Her feet.

"Your Majesty, I..."

"I know," She replied stiffly, offering her hand, "and yet I will this anyway."

The mage nodded and, with his legs shaking, stood and touched Her soft, downy hand, unsure of how to honourably grasp the elegant queen's fingers.

"You will have to interlock our fingers unless you wish to be scratched by my claws," She replied with a hint of amusement, "and I have had enough of injuries for one day."

He obeyed and She found the strength to stand. Releasing his hand, She bowed her head in thanks. Gazing around at her faithful Few, She saw sorrow in every face.

"Is this all that remains?" She asked, steeling herself against the reply.

It did not come. There was no need.

"Then I am now She of the Fewer," She added sadly, "however I must mourn later, for today we flee. As I was advised while I was not listening, it is better to fly at this moment and return stronger at a later one. Which we will. It may take centuries, but we will one day find the land open to us. Naturally, I speak of future generations, so we must secure a haven to make that possible and I believe I know where one may be found. My body has healed thanks to all present here. But some things cannot be so easily mended."

A few managed to smile, but one towards the back raised a wing over the rest.

"My Lady, if I may be so bold, if we had returned to our burning homes, they would have killed us. Why do You not only permit the presence of this invader but encourage it?"

The question was followed by some soft murmurs of agreement. She of the Few looked down kindly on Y'kàndrà then readdressed Her people, needing to be strong for them. And herself.

"Because we are not them. We are the Aevyormii, the Winds of Light. Who are we to take the life of another?" She asked.

"Do we not have, for the first time in our history, the right of Revenge?" the questioner asked bitterly.

"It may feel that way," She of the Few acknowledged, "but look past your feelings. What is it you truly seek?"

"I think our Parànt has the answer to your question, My Lady," the Communer interjected, "What was it you said you would stand for?", he asked Y'kàndrà, "the principle you would support us in?"

Again, he felt reddened in shame and sorrow, knowing many had a right to claim his life yet, by the mercy of their queen, they could not.

"Justice," he replied simply with his eyes downcast, knowing how hollow it would sound to everyone present on the Island.

Well, almost everyone, he thought, something is different about this queen.

"I agree," She of the Few nodded, "tonight I will weep for the friends we lost. Tomorrow I will scream in agony over the lands that were scarred. But on the third day, we will begin to rebuild our lives and our purpose. While we could harness the Elements to instantly take us to a new sanctuary, I believe the best thing for us all is to fly. Together. Only together can we find hope. Make your preparations."

The Aevyormii divided themselves into groups that once represented nesting neighbourhoods or nature-tending flocks. Some sharpened their claws on the now-bare rock of the Island. Others healed wounds or re-bound failing feathers on their fellows' wings. Of the Few, only a small number remained who were able to build or sew - skills that would need to be taught to former scholars and diplomats. But those Aevyormii ensured all garments were repaired, with almost all tougher armour being in such a state of disrepair that they were thrown into Lake Pìchous.

Y'kàndrà watched as those he was attacking only Urs earlier demonstrated what individual leadership and communal unity meant. It was a stark contrast to the rabble he had now abandoned, and it served to strengthen his resolve.

I will need to build my life in a way that means never again can Kings of Qal'ath abuse their power without repercussions. Yet, to do so, I need more eyes than the two I have, and I have no wings.

In response to his question, She of the Few strode to where he stood and bowed her head.

"Thank you for humouring me earlier, though I had not accounted for your embarrassment, for which I apologise. But I do have a possible solution to your quandary."

Y'kàndrà shook his head.

"You, of all people, your Majesty, should not be apologising."

"Please, enough of the 'your Majesty' nonsense. As I will say to my people again and again until they realise I am serious, call me Naun'àn'èrd, or Naun." She insisted.

"I...thank you...Naun," he acknowledged feeling ill at ease with such familiarity with one who invoked awe in all who spoke with Her, "please share your insight."

"Very well," Naun nodded, "while we may appear like tall Paràntii with wings, claws and fur, we have friends among your more...common...winged species. Tell me, did your training grant you knowledge of the more intelligent creatures of nature?"

Y'kàndrà shook his head.

"I did not learn that. Not because it was not available but..."

"Because it did not suit your purposes? I say this not to shame you, but to help me communicate with you in a way that does not treat you like...shall we say...an imbecile?"

The Mage's mouth opened aghast.

"How could you know I..."

Naun laughed for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime.

"Until we dissipate our minds are very much alive, regardless of what our bodies look like. Anyway, the Aunwii, whose forest we shall fly over, may provide your eyes and ears to assist your cause. How you convince them or earn their trust, I will leave to you."

"Aunwii?" Y'kàndrà pondered, "oh, the ones we call Ravens?"

Naun nodded.

"The same. Well, almost the same. Be sure you only speak to the ones with the red flecks over their eyes, though."

"Why? Are the others more dangerous?" he asked.

"Dangerous, hùlàn no," she laughed again, "they just won't understand you!"

Y'kàndrà's attention was taken away from Her when he saw the other Aevyormii waiting behind their queen, She of the Few.

"Your people await you," he stated, sadly.

Naun turned and saw all eyes were on Her, felt all of their wild and varying emotions and knew Her moment of light and laughter was over. For a time.

Nodding gravely to the gathered remnant, She lifted into the air, as did Her people, and Her great wingspan completely blocked the moonlight over Y'kàndrà. For a few moments they locked a gaze of understanding then, with a piercing cry, the host of Aevyormii took flight and vanished into the East.

Overwhelmed by the day's events and being almost overcome by a need to sleep, Y'kàndrà sat down heavily on the ground. With the departure of the Aevyormii, the summoning stone had, as he had expected, returned to its natural state. Knowing his first challenge, then, was getting off the island, he tried to keep himself awake by making a journey plan. As he held out his right hand to begin a simple mapping incantation, a sole feather landed in his palm. It was tipped with blue. Remorse overtook him and he cried himself to sleep on the silent, bare, deserted island.

In his dreams, he only saw memories of the day's so-called 'battle', until the light of Her came into view.

"Only together can we find hope. Make your preparations," he heard Her say again.

Waking suddenly, cold and stiff, he realised he did have a trail to follow. Hers. It would be faint now, but it should be enough.

I only need follow until I am sure of the lands below, he reasoned.

He reached for his brand and focussed his mind. Taking a breath he said simply.

"The path to hope along the trail of light."

And there he travelled.