Niviene sat at the desk, sky blue eyes resting on the ever growing pile of unsent letters to her husband. By her reckoning, she had been away from home for several months now. She had been certain that her captivity wouldn’t last long. And while she wasn’t exactly being held prisoner now, her liberation had not come about as she had expected it to. Had not come at all.
When she’d caught that glimpse of Erik, the priestess was sure she would be going home soon. But that glimpse was all she’d had. There had been no messages, no more sightings. Nothing.
In her heart she knew that there were few things that would keep Braghaman from finding her. But her head had been filled with the whispered doubts that seemed to permeate the air in Revendreth.
She had weighed her sins against her virtues and found herself sadly wanting. It was no wonder she’d landed in such a desolate place. Perhaps it was her destiny to spend the rest of her days searching for a man who would never come. And why would he? What had she ever done to deserve such as he?
Niviene clenched her fist around the parchment, crumpling the stack into a ball that she hurled across the room. Alas, it was only paper, it traveled only inches before it fell uselessly to the floor.
The sound of footsteps roused her from her thoughts. Stuart, one of her venthyr hosts, strode across the room, his booted foot kicking the wad of paper across the floor before he stopped, his heel grinding it into the dusty tile. He glanced at the priestess, reached for a book on the shelf above her head then nodded as he turned and left the room.
Once more her eyes returned to the parchment, now squashed, tattered, and torn. She sighed heavily, turning her gaze away. Useless, forgotten, insignificant… just as she was.
Shaking her head violently, Niviene surged from her chair to stand near a window, forcing herself to look past the encroaching gloom, to see the light, any light, that would help her dispel the darkness in her soul.
She would not let herself believe that he didn’t care. She would not give into the despair that threatened her every waking hour as well as her darkest dreams. She knew that Braghaman loved her. But she also knew he wasn’t coming. She was on her own.
“Bishop Lancaster.” Niviene said, “You are to blame. Whatever has happened to Bragh… to me… is because of you. I am tired of running. I am tired of letting you control my life. I want to be with my children. I will be with my children.” her gaze hardened as she looked out the window and over the horizon.
She flicked wrist and the wad of paper burst into bright white flames, “Light save you your grace”, she whispered, “for that’s the only thing that can now.”