Chapter Text
You stood at the railing of the Soul's Vendetta airship, staring out at the Bloodstone Fen.
You tugged at the metal loop attached to a leather strap over your shoulder. The glider on your back snapped open. With no air pushing upward on it to keep it open, it snapped back closed, pulling the loop back up to hang near your shoulder. You mindlessly pulled the loop again, and let it bounce your hand back up.
Pull, bounce. Pull, bounce. Pull, bounce.
You'd told Almorra earlier that you resigned from the Pact.
Pull, bounce. Pull, bounce.
Mordremoth was dead.
Pull, bounce.
Trahearne was dead.
Pull, bounce.
What was the point anymore?
I should jump off.
You'd killed him.
You'd killed him.
You gasped, a half-sob, and turned away from the railing. Something twisted inside you.
You'd killed him.
Of all the friends you'd lost, decisions you'd made, people and soldiers whose deaths you'd been responsible for, those under your command who'd fallen to corruption - you were more guilty of his death than of any other.
You staggered a few steps across the deck to the airship's other railing. You gripped it tightly and stared down at the ground, miles below.
You killed him.
The memory of hefting Caladbolg and -
You gripped the railing harder.
You should jump
You should die.
You deserved to die.
Trahearne wouldn't like that.
Nobody would.
You had responsibilities.
...
Those responsibilities had you drowning.
How could you do things when Trahearne was dead? Your anchor, your mainstay, your ground amidst the chaos of life? How could you just - go on?
You'd resigned from the Pact. That was betrayal enough, already.
What else was there to do?
Nothing. Just - nothing. It was all beyond you.
No matter how much everyone looked up to you, needed you, admired you - you couldn't. It was just... all too much.
But what could you do?
You tugged at your glider strap again. Pull, bounce. Pull, bounce.
No, you couldn't die. That didn't make sense. You sighed.
You cast a longing glance over the railing, imaginging the wind blowing fiercely in your face.
Pull, bounce.
You wanted to.
You wanted to fly.
You set your jaw and stepped up on the railing. You leaped off.
Nobody stopped you, because that was how you usually set off for some remote location in Bloodstone Fen.
The adrenaline of free fall rushed through you, woke you up like an electric shock.
For a moment, you panicked at the loss of control, but as you fell and fell and fell, with no sign of stopping - the wind in your face, just as you'd wanted, and the loss of gravity, and the ground miles away...
It was calming.
You fell past the floating rocky islands with Bloodstone creatures roaming on them.
You closed your eyes and let go - of the fear, the anxiety, the nervousness of the fall. You closed your eyes and just fell.
Your physical reality now matched your mental one - out of control, free falling, with nothing you could do save pull the plug.
You let go.
You let your worries blow past you, and your guilt, and your grief, and everything else, and just fell, and let the wind blow on your face.
And then there was peace.
Just you and the wind.
It was like being cradled by nature - the wind cushioning you, brushing past you gently, holding you. Pulling you down, drawing you... wanting you. Holding you.
You breathed, in and out.
Deep breaths.
It was peaceful. You could... sleep.
Just you and the wind.
You rolled over on your back and stared up at the airship and the islands growing smaller in the sky.
A moment passed.
You suddenly realized that you didn't know how long you'd been falling. The airship and islands were awfully far away -
Fear seized you, and you turned again to see how close the ground was.
Closer than you'd expected. You fumbled for the ring and gripped it, eyes wide -
It wasn't that close, but still you took a trembling breath.
The ground was still quite far away, but the peaceful moment had shattered.
There was nothing more for you here.
You took a deep breath and pulled the ring.
Pull, snap.
The wings of the glider snapped out and stiffened in the wind. The glider caught you abruptly out of the air. You hung there for a moment, dazed, while you glided smoothly forward.
The adrenaline slowly faded.
You shifted your grip from the metal ring to the wooden handholds of the glider and took another deep breath.
You automatically began looking for a safe place to land, or an updraft. You wanted to get back to the airship - back to safety, quiet, and familiar faces - while you recovered from that fall.
You caught an updraft and soared up, then spiraled around looking for another.
You flew from updraft to island to updraft, climbing higher in the sky.
Your hands were still trembling.
I didn't want to die.
The thought puzzled you, but it was also calming.
The world made more sense with you alive, no matter how bleak and grief-stricken and guilt-ridden it was.
You'd manage.
Finally, the last updraft shot you high above the airship, and you spiraled back down the deck.
The glider folded back up with a snap the moment your feet touched the wooden planks.
It was a heady feeling, being back on solid-ish ground. Your head spun slightly.
Yes, the world definitely made more sense with you alive.