Lindiwe reached into her cloak and around herself. When her hand came back around, she was holding a baby Duskwalker across her forearm. They clung on for a moment before she placed them into her lap and comfortingly covered their back with her palm.
This one had a tiny skull, but Emerie couldn’t make out what kind in the darkness. Still, they looked small, and still so fragile.
“Oh,” Emerie rasped. “I see. You couldn’t because you didn’t want to leave your baby by themself.”
“Exactly. I carry two, and have been since Orpheus and Reia bonded. This one has a skull, whereas the other does not. I… have been keeping them small on purpose after I realised Jabez was making moves and had truly started to target all Mavka. I decided it was easier to protect them if they stayed attached to me.”
“But it means you can’t truly help the grown ones when in a fight.”
“Yes, this is the problem I face. I can only do so much, and I can only be in one place at a time. I had to make a choice between Aleron and Ingram that night. I could not get to Aleron, not without possibly dying or having one of these two harmed in my attempts. I saved the son I could, while I was forced to watch the other die before my very eyes.”
She lowered her head to face the little Duskwalker on her lap. Her eyes didn’t well with tears, but Emerie thought she could hear them in her voice.
“It’s not fair for a mother to outlive her children. It is not how it is supposed to be. Then the others blame me for my failure, although I could do nothing to prevent it. Aleron is not the first to die, but my serpent child was the one who taught me that destroying their skulls is how I will see them all perish if I do not protect them.”
Emerie clasped her hands and looked out into the forest, wishing it didn’t look even more dreary than it did a few minutes ago.
“Why are you telling me all this?” She whispered the question, unsure of why Lindiwe was pushing this burden onto her.
Emerie’s heart ached for the woman, unable to imagine all the sorrow, grief, and suffering she’d gone through. It was obvious she cared about her children very deeply, more than they seemed to realise.
Even though she was a Phantom, she was still human. Just one that could possibly be centuries old.
“I want to give this to you,” Lindiwe said, offering the sun stone.
Emerie glanced down at it, while jerking back. “Why? Wouldn’t it be better for you to keep it, or to give it to one of the others? I’m not a Phantom, and to be honest, I don’t think I’m going to live very long in this fight.”
“Because, Emerie, you are the only one who can use it.”
She forced it into Emerie’s hand, and she stared down at it. The golden-yellow glow faintly pulsated within the blue stone.
“What do you mean, I am the only one who can use it? I don’t have any magic.”
“This stone is… volatile. When I gave it to Weldir, he activated it, and I was instantly in pain. It was like my Phantom spirit was trying to separate from my human body. He deactivated it when he felt my soul rippling, like it was trying to break apart.”
Emerie’s lips parted, and she gawked at the tiny stone in her palm. It was barely bigger than the fingernail of her thumb.
“The rest of the souls in Tenebris were unaffected, only mine. I remember this sound, and it was like a ringing I felt all the way through me. Even Weldir was affected, but it was his Elven heritage that kept him from withering.”
“I would say we should give it to Ingram, but I don’t think he’ll be in the right frame of mind to be useful,” Emerie tried to laugh out.
Lindiwe’s sharp, tight features sliced at her humour.
“If it affected Weldir and me, then I don’t think a Mavka will survive its blast, as they are part spirit, part human. It is likely the same thing that happened to me will happen to them. I don’t think it’s the light that affected me like it would Demons, but the sound, the frequency of it, separates a Phantom soul from their physical form. For a Mavka… that could mean death. They have nowhere to resurrect to, as they have no anchor to return to like their brides.”
“Are… are you saying we have to leave Ingram behind?”
“Yes. I also don’t think the stone wielder will survive, no matter who or what they are. It produces a lot of heat and radiation. It is like you are holding a droplet of the sun in your hand, and shattering it will release an immense amount of power. We will still need the others’ help, but that is only so they can clear a path for us to reach the Demon King.”
Emerie tightened her hand around the stone until it was secure in her fist. Her eyes welled with tears that were both sad and fearful as she glared at the nothingness before her.
She knew what this meant.
“You know…” she weakly started, her voice trembling as salty liquid obscured her vision. “I was kind of hoping there was a way I would somehow live through this.”
“I am… sorry,” Lindiwe softly stated. “If I could do this, I would, and I cannot bear to hurt my mated children. I cannot rip their brides from them, not when they are finally experiencing happiness.”
“So, basically, what will happen is” – Emerie licked at her lips as tears began to slip across the seam of them – “you will protect me until I make it to Jabez, knowing the others will eventually be killed and returned to their Duskwalkers, but you hope they will help us reach him.”
“Yes.”
“Then…” Emerie let out a sob as she covered her eyes with her other hand. She persevered through her emotions to explain what Lindiwe’s plan was, to show she completely understood it. “Then once they are gone, you will leave me by myself with Jabez, so I can kill us both with this stone.”
“I know I am asking a lot from you. That you have no real reason to make this sacrifice.”
“But you need a human.” Emerie quietly cried as she voiced her realisation. “You need someone who is not a bride, otherwise it will emotionally destroy their bonded Duskwalker if one of them dies permanently.”
“That is my fear, yes. I’m also worried that the soul rippling and breaking apart may, by proxy, kill one of my children in the process. Both Mavka and Phantom become intertwined on a spiritual level, their souls eternally linked. If one permanently dies…”
“The other could follow. I get it.” Emerie lowered her hand so she could wipe at her tear-stained cheeks. “Wh-what would you have done if I had given Ingram my soul?”
“Waited until another human came along. I would have searched for someone willing to do this for us.”
She slapped her face into her hands again and shook her head. “You and I both know no human would have done this. We consider them monsters. No one would make this sacrifice for them.”
The silence that followed Emerie’s words was choking.
“I know,” Lindiwe eventually admitted. “When you offered to travel with Ingram, I wasn’t sure what I was hoping for. I want him to find a bride, but… I also want to save my children. Orpheus, Magnar, and especially Faunus now – they are all at risk. Every time they travel between each other’s homes, they risk the potential of being overrun. Weldir can obtain a new mate, unlike our children. If I did not have these two little ones to protect, I would have made the sacrifice.”