The first awareness Tcimmera has of being alive, is pain.
It sneaks into the gloaming world of her sleep in the form of a dull, smothering blanket. It tries to push her back into the darkness, away from consciousness, but it has made a mistake.
Now Tcimmera has a struggle against an opposing force. If she knows how to do one thing…
“Whatever is said of us after today, wherever we go…”
It is struggle.
“We will know that we did not turn a blind eye.”
The pain sharpens, focusing into lances through her body. Where it once suppressed, now it tries to cripple. Body parts she can’t name or place in her state roar with agony with enough force that she gasps.
“So raise your heads high. Know that we did what we could, and no less.”
Tcimmera tries to raise her head anyway, fighting the leaden weights that crush her body. A part of her begs to surrender, to sink back onto the ground again and let the dark swallow her up again.
“What shame is there that we didn’t kill the invaders, when we made them bleed?”
Her eyes open up a sliver, just enough to let in a crack of sunlight that pounds at her brain and blinds one of her eyes. The other is clogged shut with dried blood.
“Vhyrta, it was an honour to fight the Desraki…”
A hand curls into the ground, fingers digging for an anchor point to ground herself. Bit by bit, she pushes herself up, hisses of air escaping from between her teeth.
“It will be a greater honour to die beside you all.”
Limbs shaking with weakness, Tcimmera forces herself upright, head swimming with the effort. Blinded by the light, she shuffles forward a step and almost falls over. She grits her teeth, and forces herself to take another step; not knowing where she goes, only that she must.
As her eyes grow accustomed to the light, Tcimmera sees the blurry shape of a tree before her. She crawls towards it, staving off collapse until her back is to the bark. She falls against it, and devotes her remaining energy to breathing.
Babbling water catches her attention, and slowly she turns her head towards the sound, ignoring her spine grating together in her neck. Tcimmera sees a river. It takes a few seconds for her to dully realise that she must have been washed up out of it.
The body of water rushed up to her, and it all went dark just as she hit it.
Tcimmera blinks at the memory. There’s something there, something important. Her foggy thoughts begin to collect themselves…
A silver tower approaching through the air. Draconic wings beat the air beside her, and a small reptilian humanoid sits in the saddle in front of her, but her attention is fixed squarely on her target. A voice calls out;
“Closer!”
It is her own.
“The traitor is in there!”
“Sorrah…” Tcimmera rasps, the name begetting hate within her. Her hands curl into fists as images of the two-faced mage and the horror she had inflicted flash briefly before her eyes.
“We can cut the head off the snake right now!”
“For Civilia!” A voice bellows. The Stardrake she rides lifts up his head and roars his challenge at the tower, a wordless paean of defiance. It fills her with righteousness and undefeatable purpose.
“Ahvria…”
She feels a pang on loss. Ahvria is her ally… Her friend. Tcimmera wishes he were with her now.
Abruptly, the Silver Tower begins to shine. Ahvria tries to stop his charge.
“Hold on Tcim-” he calls out, Tcimmera just registering the fear in his voice before she is blinded and deafened.
When her senses return, she is freefalling beside Ahvria. Blood streams from a great rent torn into his chest, an entire wing and arm ripped off of him.
Tcimmera can feel her eyes begin to fill with tears.
“No…”
Ahvria reaches out to her with his remaining claws, as she reaches out to him, but he’s just a few feet too far away from her. He might as well have been miles away. His lips part enough to murmur something to her, but his voice is lost to the rushing air around them.
Just before they hit the water, Ahvria’s body fades away into star-dust; save for one brilliant, shining star. It’s the last thing Tcimmera sees before the body of water rushed up to her, and it all went dark.
Tcimmera lies back against the bark, staring up at the blurred jungle canopy.
Ahvria… She had gotten Ahvria killed at Civilia…
And his solar gem could be lost to the jungle…
In that same thought rage whirls through her, overpowering her despair. She pushes herself up, ignoring the pain of doing so. Instinctively, her hand takes her hammer from her belt.
She looks at the river. If it had carried her away from Civilia, then all she’d have to do is go upstream to find the city and reunite with her Wardens. She starts taking a few, tentative steps, each one becoming more sure than the last.
Her hand clenches around the shaft of her hammer.
Stardrake or no, Sorrah Nikos will burn.
“What do you want?” Phionan asks, his voice cutting through time and death to her very core.
Just as the burst of energy had suddenly entered her, it leaves. Tcimmera falls to her knees again, panting and weakly holding on to her hammer for support.
“Ahvria…” she whispers to herself, tears threatening again.
In her heart, she knows that getting revenge for her friend won’t bring him back. The sight of Sorrah Nikos’ charred remains could never replace the Stardrake’s mischievous smile.
“I’m sorry…”
The babbling of water enters her perception once more. Tcimmera feels her eyes pulled once more to the river.
“Do you want to be a destroyer…”
She turns around to follow the course of the river. It flows deeper into the jungle, into the depths of a dark and hostile environment.
“Or a saviour?”
Somewhere deep within her, Tcimmera knows that Ahvria’s solar gem is in there.
With agonising slowness, she pushes herself off her knees, and turns around.
The Wardens of Burden can look after themselves.
Right now, she has a duty to a friend.
With purpose keeping her pace steady, Tcimmera steps deeper into the Furyoth Dell, unwitting to the reptilian eyes that watch her every step.
