Things Fall Apart (Originally Posted 2009)

[JewellRavenlock]

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.
--W.B. Yeats, “The Second Coming”

[JewellRavenlock]

Before you came what was your name?
Did you look like me?
No one’s from here, no one my dear, not even the trees.
So change your name, just keep your face.
We’re temporary anyway.

So lose your past.
I’m sure you’ll find it’s in the way all the time.
Before you’re through you’re someone who looks a lot like you.
I am trying very hard to be here—AFI


As the sun faded over the horizon line and night descended upon RhyDin, Jewell ushered her little ones into their rooms amongst protests and pleadings for just another hour of freedom. “Absolutely not! Everyone to bed, right now! Even you, Amanda.” The command earned her a dirty look from her eldest, but it seemed to appease most of the others.

“But wha-iiii?” Cried Devyn, apparently not one of the appeased.

“You know the drill by now, I should not have to explain myself. It is Saturday night; we have to take your siblings back to school very early tomorrow morning so they can get settled in for their classes on Monday and we can get back home at a reasonable time. Now scatter!” She shoo’d them all towards their respective rooms with her hands.

An hour later—after continued protest and several rounds of vicious threats to keep the kids in their rooms once their mother got them there—found Jewell perched cross-legged on her king-sized bed like a queen, enjoying the peace and quiet that now reigned in her house. She was sure that not everyone was asleep, but they were confined to quarters for the rest of the evening and that was good enough for her. She sat with papers, parchments, and scrolls scattered around her on the bedspread, all within reach. What use was a bed with no one to share it with? What use sleep when she could dream when awake? These quiet hours, as the moon rose and the stars came out one by one to light the lands, were Jewell’s sanctuary. No children to play mom to. No need to play the coquette. No smile to put on when it was not felt. She had the house to herself, and she absorbed her mind in the study of subjects both mundane and fantastic. At least that was what was set before her, but her eyes—as they often were these days—were focused on the air in front of her, devoid of anything of interest as it was. How many times, she wondered, could a person contemplate their life to find out where it all went wrong? Where had her plans gone awry? One more time at least. And so she whittled away the early evening hours, mourning what she had lost, what she had pushed away, and what she would not allow herself to have again.

A sigh puttered forth from between her lips as she lifted the parchment that was in her hand once more, trying to refocus her eyes on it. She got no further than the opening line “While many have reason to believe that the nature of a person’s time line is static, it has been proven through a series of experiments…” when something on the peripheral of her senses caught her attention and whisked it away. Someone was approaching her house.

With Iona out since earlier in the day, visiting with family and not expected to return until the next evening, Jewell was left to greet whatever guest was approaching. She exited her room into the hallway, her brow furrowing in concentration as she tried to discern who was calling on them at this hour. Moving towards the stairs, she saw Amanda’s head peep out from behind her bedroom door; the girl clearly had felt their visitor as well, and Jewell felt momentarily proud at her daughter’s discernment. “Get back into your room and stay there, understand?” She locked eyes with the girl, her tone brooking no argument.

Amanda frowned at her in return, but Jewell was pleased to hear her daughter’s door click shut as she sprang quickly down the inner steps of the house. She kept a weather eye with her other-senses on those nearing her house; there was certainly more than one—that much she could determine as they got closer—which made her uneasy. Who would be visiting them at this hour and in such numbers as she could feel? She did not know and was all the more wary because of it.

She threw open the front door and stepped outside barefoot, closing the door behind her. She did not want the cool, crisp evening air to penetrate the sanctuary of her home. Her bare arms tingled at a light breeze, goose bumps puckering her skin. Physical discomfort was not a concern, though, as she watched a procession march down the lane to her front door. They were almost upon her.

Although it was already dark and getting darker, the moon cast little light as it rose and the stars were faint in the cloudy sky, Jewell’s keen grey eyes could make out the general appearance and the livery of the procession of some five and ten soldiers with little strain; whatever her eyes could not discern, her memory supplied. Each and every one of them was male; while a matriarchy still ruled in the Lands, the ruling ladies’ men would be sent out to die for them. They were tall, the shortest not descending below six and a half feet. Although soldiers, their frames could be described as lanky, almost awkward for humans with such long legs and arms; yet these did not keep a sense of grace and confidence from their every move. All of them wore their hair long and tied back, mostly in varying shades of golden blonde and brown. Their ears were elongated, rising to a point, and their faces all blessed with the beauty of those who reside beyond the Vale. The thin metal of their breastplates, arm, and leg guards was hammered and manipulated to give it the facade of fish scales. Even though it looked more like a delicate work of art, Jewell knew from personal experience that it would deflect any blade yet allow for flexibility of movement. They bore no weapons; not surprising for ones skilled such as they were. On their breasts resided a circle of bronze with a silver river running down the middle, crossed by two pole arms—the seal of the house of Ta-Neer.

At the head of the procession walked a man wholly different from the rest. Not Faerie but Fae, standing over seven feet tall with skin that looked forever tanned by the sun. His long white hair hung free, parting around two horns that curled out forward from the top of his head. His eyes met hers, black pupils momentarily unnerving her as much as they did when she was a child. Antipholus was his name and, although he was no Sidhe, as her great-grandmother’s steward he was someone to be feared.

Even meeting such a procession, Jewell did not feel underdressed in her high-necked, sleeveless, buttoned-up, cobalt blue dress despite the a-line skirt being wrinkled to an obscene degree and several of the top buttons having been undone hours previous. Although her hair was held back in a loose, messy bun, she raised her chin high as if every item of her appearance was perfection itself and they all were the ones found lacking. In such a manner, she greeted them when Antipholus stopped at the bottom of the steps before her and the other men fanned out behind him. “Greetings Antipholus, son of Laertes, Steward of Coventina, Lady of the House of Ta-Neer. To what do I owe this honor?” Her eyes were cold, the color changed to a flinty grey that held little warmth or welcome for this embassy.

For Antipholus, forever used to dealing with the Lords and Ladies of Faerie, the cold Jewell exuded in her speech was nothing unusual; rather, it was expected. He could clearly read the meaning behind her words: “To what do I owe this honor?” was the politest way the young Faerie could ask, “What the hell do you want? Tell me now and then be gone.” Ah, the little civilities of polite society. Even her use of the local common language was a tactic, a trick to get him on uneven footing with her by using a language which she had the mastery over and he did not. Residence in RhyDin had not dulled her skills. “Greetings to you Lady Jewell, daughter of Eilulam, of the House of Ta-Neer.” He grinned at the way she flinched momentarily at the naming of her mother, flashing elongated canines, incredibly sharp and shiny, at her. “I come bearing a message of great import from your aunt.”

[JewellRavenlock]

if only pure sweetness was offered,
why’s this bitter taste left in my mouth?
Clove Smoke Catharsis--AFI

With this reminder, Jewell remembered receiving her grandmother’s original message quite clearly.

It was a late summer eve, around twilight. The children were inside, finishing up their dessert with Iona as overseer. Jewell sat on the front steps of her home, enjoying the cool breeze that blew away the heat of the day. The rocks beneath her were still warm, retaining their heat even as the sun faded over the horizon line. She loved the tricks of light at dusk—the way the fire-flies flew through the warm colors, creating magic.

While watching the sky turn a series of colors, her attention was drawn to a figure walking up her drive. Her brow furrowed as she could have sworn she hadn’t seen or felt anyone approaching on the main road. The man was clothed in a simple green tunic and pants, his head unadorned—servant garb. Yet, even these could not take away from his ethereal beauty: the delicate bone structure, high cheekbones, Grecian nose, and somewhat slanted eyes. He was undoubtedly from beyond the Vale.

She did not rise as he approached, and she waited for him to bow before speaking, “Greetings.”

“Greetings, M’lady,” he kept his head lowered respectfully. “I come bearing a message for you.”

A finely shaped blue brow rose, and she extended her hand to accept. “Give it here, servant.” While she never spoke this way to those in her employ, it was a title both fitting and acceptable for the man before her. It was a title he was more than used to after years of servitude; he had come to believe that he loved it.

He produced a sealed letter from beneath his tunic shirt, bowing again as he extended it to her. “From your aunt,” he said needlessly; she couldn’t fail to recognize the wax seal on the letter as she turned it over in her hands. Memories surfaced of a great house surrounded by moors, a raging river, guard towers that sprung up high from the ground, surrounded by guards who had this very seal on their breast.

“Will you await my reply?” Jewell was not looking at him but was breaking the seal and unfolding the paper.

“Nae, M’lady. I understand it should not be necessary. You need only call my name if you find otherwise.” He handed over a small card, a name written on it in shimmering letters. The name would only be visible to those whom the writer wished it so. Apparently, the young man had lost his name to her grandmother somehow. How typical of the old woman.

Jewell tucked the card away, doubting that she would use it. “You are dismissed, then.” She did not look up as he returned the way he came, did not see him disappear from sight in the twinkle of an eye, her mind already absorbed in the writing spread out before her.

The message was clear enough despite the layers of formalities and political politeness it was buried beneath. Her aunt was requesting, no demanding, her presence in the Lands for an unspecified amount of time. Her family, the Ta-Neer family, was both powerful and large. Jewell’s lack of presence amongst them had gone overlooked, unnoticed, or uncared for up until this time. Apparently no longer. Her aunt had use for her it seemed.

“I greatly desire your presence here amongst us. A place of such honor, unknown to you until this time in the lands you have travelled, awaits you here.”

“A place of servitude, more like it,” Jewell mused. She had been very young at the time of her last journey into the Lands, but even then she had not escaped the undeniable truth—all in the family served her aunt. Furthermore, it was her aunt’s desire to make sure all those in the surrounding area did the same.

“Your travels and the great wisdom you have acquired on them are well known. Your dear cousins are sure to be enthralled with your countless tales; you will surely become a great favorite. Furthermore, although you are younger than they, perhaps your wisdom may be shared.”

Yes, enthralled. Her aunt must have use for her supposed knowledge and wisdom beyond the education of her cousins; otherwise her lack of presence in the Lands would not be so lamented, the attempt to get her there not so persuasive. Her aunt had not been so eager to bring Jewell into the family-fold back when her parents had been killed, back when she was being emotionally and physically abused, back when she had fled her homeworld in search of another, back over the last fifteen years!

Jewell noticed that her aunt even attempted to pull on her heartstrings: “I have been without the joy of seeing your mother’s beloved face since she has departed from this world. Do not further deprive me of the sight of yours, in which her image has been reborn. Please join me in the Lands at your earliest convenience. Your place is here, with your family.”

Jewell was sorely tempted to accept. How had she thought of her life in RhyDin lately? Sourly, at best. Everything had been cast in shades of grey since her separation form Stephen. She heard a voice, the voice of her future self, in her head: “It is a path full of adventure and great opportunities.” Was this it? Her golden opportunity? Could she just pack the kids up and leave RhyDin, maybe never to return? A whole new life and adventure was being held out before her. Would she take it?

The letter requested no response save for her presence in the Lands. Her aunt was that sure that Jewell would accept this request-command. It was that display of self-assurance which cinched it. Her aunt clearly could not imagine Jewell—anyone, in fact—doing the opposite of what she asked. Jewell, strong-willed and independent, didn’t want to spend a possible eternity serving one such as that. She refused to subject herself to anyone else, valuing her self-sovereignty too much. Her life was her own to live.

The letter had been neatly tucked away in the pocket of her dress that evening; then it had been carefully hidden away in a drawer of her desk, where it resided even now as she rehashed the issue with Antipholus on the front steps of her home.

[JewellRavenlock]

You won’t see them right away but you’ll hear them singing.
Hold me closely now but don’t say anything.
They’ve come to take me away and won’t leave until I’m gone.
It Was Mine—AFI

She tsk’d, lowering her chin a moment and eyeing him through her lashes as she shook her head. “You must be mistaken, Antipholus. I received my aunt’s message some time ago.”

“Yes,” he replied patiently, speaking to her as though she were the little girl she once was, “but my lady made no reply. Your aunt was understandably concerned that perhaps the message had not reached you in this forsaken and unknown land.” He sent a scathing look around at his surroundings. Jewell’s cheeks colored; she was proud of the little estate she had carved out of the upper west coast of RhyDin, but she knew it was nothing in comparison to the splendors he saw daily in the Lands. “My lady therefore sent me, her most trusted servant, to check on your safety and relay the contents of her original message.”

“Unless there is something you are required to relate to me that is outside the contents of the original message, than your presence here is unnecessary. As I already stated, I received my aunt’s correspondence without any trouble. I made no reply because one was not necessary. She requested my presence for an undetermined length of time in the Lands as a response. A lack of my presence should have been response enough.” It had been a slight, certainly, to not answer her aunt’s message. However, she had felt, in no uncertain terms, that a reply refusing her aunt’s kind request would not have been taken lightly or kindly.

Pretending not to understand, Antipholus shifted his head ever so slightly to the right, almost incredulously, “Then you decline your aunt’s request?”

“I do.” She wasted no words on him; he was clearly beneath her.

“Perhaps you fail to understand the nature of your aunt’s request,” he put such emphasis on the word while he and Jewell both knew that it was clearly a command on her grandmother’s part; the Lady of Ta-Neer did not make requests. “As you have been recently devoid of many of your ties to this land, your aunt generously has found use for you. You have therefore been asked to rejoin your family in the Lands, taking up a spot of honor amongst them where you belong. It is a great invitation.”

Jewell bristled internally at the mention of her ties to RhyDin being severed. She knew exactly what he referred to, and for the first time, doubt crept into her mind regarding the nature of the Dream she had had so many months ago and the events immediately surrounding the severance of her marriage to Stephen. Had it all simply be arranged? She couldn’t believe that! Wouldn’t. If it was true…mother of nature, if it was true then perhaps she had made a grave mistake. When making her reply, she couldn’t completely retain her cool demeanor; Antipholus had intentionally touched upon a sore subject and it showed in the heightened tone she used, “Despite the severing of one of my ties to this land, there is still too much to keep me here, too many other ties.” She held up a hand to forestall any comments, “Do not be alarmed. I fully understand the nature of my aunt’s request, yet I still choose to refuse it. The honor and glory that apparently awaits me as a member of the house of Ta-Neer is not tempting. My life is here.”

Antipholus nodded empathetically before flashing a feral grin at her, “I was told that you might respond this way and was given permission to the take appropriate action.” He liked the way her eyes widened and doubt crept over her features when she realized that perhaps this was more than just a polite social call on his part. “Men,” he gestured with his hand, and the up-to-now statuesque guards sprang into action. They tore through the wards Jewell had tightly surrounding the house with like mere tissue paper, sending her reeling. They entered through every window and door, the men in Antipholus’ procession being joined by other more numerous guards that had lurked around the perimeter during the previous chat, unnoticed by the young Faerie.

Jewell could hear the glass shattering, wood splintering, as she collapsed to her knees under the onslaught of spell-backlash. Her whole world was dominated by exploding white light before her eyes, the view one gets when hit hard enough across the face multiplied by ten. Whereas blacking out was the most desirable result of such a situation, providing a person freedom from the pain of being conscious, Jewell dug her nails into consciousness and clung to it.

Antipholus remained standing before her on the stairs, watching her dispassionately. With an angered cry, fueled by rage, she flew at him blindly with nails extended in a most primeval attack. He batted her aside with the back of his hand; she was nothing more than an annoying little fly. She spun as she fell. When her temple impacted with the paving stones of her front steps, she saw stars once more before quickly being taken over by momentary darkness.

[JewellRavenlock]

I fell into a burning ring of fire
I went down, down, down and the flames went higher
And it burns, burns, burns
The ring of fire
The ring of fire
Ring of Fire—Johnny Cash

The smell of smoke tickled her nose, serving as smelling salts to return her to the land of the living. As consciousness returned she became heart-renderingly aware of the amount of smoke in the air. They were burning it. They were burning her house to the ground! Coupled with the scent of smoke were several high-pitched screams that suddenly rent the night. Her children. They were burning her house to the ground, her children were still inside, and it was a struggle for her to even think of moving. “Just move arm!” her mind screamed, trying to make her appendages work to little avail. Her whole body felt sluggish, unresponsive. Then an explosion rocked the ground, thundering forth from the back of the house. That was her little girl, Amanda, without a doubt.

The fight her eldest daughter was putting up roused her. With little attention to Antipholus, who continued to stand there, simply watching her life burn down around her with a grim satisfaction, Jewell forced herself to move. She dragged her arms beneath her, leveraging herself first to her knees, pushing back a wave of vertigo forcibly, and then to her feet to stand unsteadily. She only waited a moment for her vision to stop see-sawing before dashing through the broken front doors and into the inferno.

She paused momentarily once inside, frozen in horrified fascination at the destructive power of fire and how quickly it could render the familiar unrecognizable. She had done many foolish things in her life, but never before had she run into a burning building. It was terrifying. Thick, oily smoke obscured her vision of everything, twisting it. Her eyes were already burning, yet she still tried to peer through the thick cloud to see what was becoming of the life she had built: it was already so quickly in ruins. Jewell took one or two steps in the direction of her personal library. All those books and scrolls! She had to save some of them.

A crash from upstairs roused her from the stupor induced by the heat of the fire. All of her sensibilities screamed at her: “Run from this place! Get out!” She brushed them aside and ran up the stairs, noting how the once sturdy wood now creaked and groaned under her light weight as the fire ate at it from the inside. They would collapse soon enough.

Although the fire had not quite reached the upstairs yet, the heat was unrelenting. At least the air was easier to breathe for the time being. She gulped down a few desperate breaths as she ran to Eva Jade’s room first—the closest to the stairs. Throwing open the door, she stopped short on the threshold of the door. Empty. The windows were shattered. Her little girl’s bed was a disturbed mess: the pillow hanging off the edge and the comforter discarded on the floor. Its occupant was nowhere to be seen. She continued to stare at that empty bed where her daughter had been sleeping soundly only minutes before. Even though she could feel the heat increasing through the floor, turning the synthetic rug into a sticky mess that burned her feet, she couldn’t force herself to move.

“Eva…” How had she failed her daughter? How had she not arrived in time to save her from these monsters that tore little girls from their beds in the middle of the night while they burned their world down around them? “Nooo,” it was a pathetic, disbelieving cry.

She couldn’t fail them all. She would not. Jewell rushed out of Eva Jade’s room and on to the next and the next and the next. All the same: smoke filling the air, fire slowly crawling up the walls, everything precious turning to ash, and not a sign of her children save for shattered glass beneath broken windows and empty beds where they once slept. Perhaps even more alarming was how completely empty the house was: not even the assailants were present. Out of all the soldiers that had entered the house, not one was left.

Amanda’s room was the last she searched, and Jewell found a slightly different scene. There were signs of a struggle amongst the burning debris, not the least of which was the gaping hole in the west wall—through which smoke poured out while fresh air fed the fire that ate away at Amanda’s world—undoubtedly from the explosion she had heard earlier. Her girl had clearly put up a fight, but she too was gone. They were all gone. Taken.

[JewellRavenlock]

Everything we built (it's gone)
And everyone around (is stunned)
We just sit here staring blankly
And everything goes numb
Lord, if I felt a thing
I could wrap my mind around this
And prevent our getting singed
If and When We Rise Again—Streetlight Manifesto

Jewell stumbled into the hallway, not even noticing how much it had changed since she had first come upstairs minutes before; the smoke was much thicker now and the walls were being eaten inside out by the fires that the soldiers had started through mage-work on the lower floor. Several of the lights, lining the wall, still worked: flickering on their sconces, little light-houses in the smoky darkness to guide her way. Her mind was muddy from the heat and the smoke, and all she could think was, “It’s all going down in flames. Everything.” Oh how lost she felt.

She ended her unfruitful search in her own room, standing there simply lost. What was happening? What was she to do now? They had taken her children but left her alive. Why were they doing this? The last question lingered in her mind as she stood there, unknowingly almost overcome by smoke inhalation. Her eyes pierced through the smoke that was slowly filling her room; it had no escape since the windows were still intact. This room was her sanctuary and it had become unrecognizable: the blue and silver walls were a dirty black as flames licked them, leaving their touch behind, and a beam had crashed down near her closet to join the growing litter on the floor. A piece of her conversation with Antipholus floated back to the forefront of her mind as she stood there, waiting to burn with all her worldly possessions: “Despite the severing of one of my ties to this land, there is still too much to keep me here, too many other ties.”

The pieces snapped together. She had been looking at it all wrong, as a soldier would! She needed to look at the situation like a politician. Brute force was not the usual way of the Faeries but coercion, manipulation. Her aunt’s soldiers had not been here to simply destroy her and her family. They were forcibly cutting her ties to RhyDin, severing them completely so that she would have nowhere else to turn. Her old life was to go up in flames, making way for the new life they wanted for her. Horrified by this revelation, she felt the sudden need to act—to save anything and everything she could to spite them. They had taken her children, but they would not take her memories away from her; they couldn’t!

Jewell had saved so many things over the years, objects that each represented a memory, a time or a person that she did not want to forget as her immortal life stretched onwards. She did not want those memories to become mere dreams, events and people half remembered; she had wanted them to always remain real. There were so many of these objects scattered throughout the room, all of them ways to remember: Gene and his laugh through a mother of pearl ring locked away in a jewelry box; Cher via her portrait hanging on the wall; her long relationship with Alex and everything it entailed represented in a single piece of jewelry she managed to keep; meeting Brian and finally having a brother who cared all tied up in the first sword he had ever given her; Skyler by his sweatshirt; what her parents even looked like and the vague memory of their touch, their voices, through the only portrait she managed to save of them; her whole life’s worth of memories recorded in her journals; the Forsaken Blades through mirror compact communicators, tea cups, and decoder rings; her children’s lives through baby clothes, seashell necklaces, plaster handprints, pictures, drawings, rocks and crumbling leaves.

So many treasures and no time to retrieve them all! They were going up in flames before her eyes. Her room had turned into a maze of smoke and flames that she tried to wade through in a desperate attempt to save anything. Her walls were burning, taking the memory of Cher and her parents with them. The way to her closet was blocked by a fallen beam, locking away all the treasures hidden within forever; there went meeting Brian and becoming a Ravenlock, the recollection of the way Alex’s eyes looked when he smiled at her, the memory of her children’s first steps, first words, first everything! The black oily smoke that was pouring forth from the closest, seeking for a way out of the room, was those memories burning. All going up in smoke. All to ash. She clenched her fists and screamed at the beam, unable to touch it, to move it out of her way, to get those memories back, to hold on to them in some way.

Then she was doubling over as she inhaled too much of the smoke, her body raked with deep coughs as she tried to expel the grit that now coated her throat and lungs. She gave herself no time to recover even as her vision blurred. She threw herself recklessly at her vanity, grabbing at the only items on the surface of the burning piece of wood furniture: three metal necklaces from Stephen, her Claddagh ring hooked onto one of the chains. She had kept these items on her vanity over the last few months, staring at them; they were a cruel reminder of what she had pushed away. The metal burned her palm as she grabbed them, but she refused to let go. She would save this if nothing else.

As she pulled on one of the drawers of the vanity, trying to get at the letters and other knick-nacks that were inside before they were consumed as well, the perfume bottles lining the top shelf shattered, spraying her bare arms with molten bits glass. She cried out, recoiling back towards the center of the room. As her vanity burned, she knew she had just lost tea parties with the Forsaken Blades, afternoons chatting with Gene in the Inn, and her whole life penned in her journals. Her burnt arms wrapped about her torso in a self-hug; she couldn’t save her children and now she couldn’t save anything else. The memories were fading, crumbling to ash. All of them! The only things she had were the necklaces, clasped tightly in her hand; she would burn their image there forever.

[JewellRavenlock]

(Did you laugh?) You know I did
(Did you cry?) I couldn’t get it right
(Did you live?) Always on the edge
(Did you lie?) Causing such a fright
(Did you love?) Oh to be forgiven
(Did you try?) But it wouldn’t be right
God it feels like an honest goodbye
Honest Goodbye—Bad Religion

Everything was gone. She was losing it all. What had her mother looked like? How had she met Celfina Cher? What were Amanda’s first words? She couldn’t remember. Her head swam, her lungs burned, and as her mind screamed for her to get out, she had to make the desperate decision to leave it all behind rather than burn with her memories and possessions. She didn’t want to go, didn’t want to leave them all behind, but her children were still out there somewhere and they were the greater pull on her heart. Her chest heaved painfully with a sob, and if her eyes weren’t so dry from the heat she probably would have cried as she turned her back on the past.

The creaking of beams, the crash as some wall or other in the house finally came down, and the roar of the fire was loud and clear in her ears now. How had she managed to ignore it for this long? She had been so focused on saving anything she could from the past that she had stayed overly long in the inferno. The heat was oppressive. She marveled that she had lasted this long; with her elemental alignment, it was simply amazing. She wondered just how long she had been inside. Five minutes? Ten? Twenty? Had she ever been this close to fire before? What else could her body—marvelously built of the earth as all Faeries were—withstand? Could she perhaps thrust her hand into the flame itself?

Jewell shook her head, realizing that she was close to losing consciousness again as her thoughts came in a dreamy, stream-of-consciousness way. She absolutely needed to get out. She received further incentive when the lights—dim, shadowy specters in the smoke—flickered once and then went out completely as the house was rocked by a deafening boom! The explosion sent her flailing ungracefully, landing her on her hands and knees. She had almost lost her grip on the necklaces but held them even tighter as she closed her eyes against a shower of burning debris that rained upon her. The mana-nexi generator she had created and built had exploded, she realized absently. When she felt it safe enough to open her eyes again, she found herself in a world colored in reds. Fire was the only light she had now and it made the remains of her home appear ghoulish and daemonic, like some layer of hell here in RhyDin.

Pushing herself up once more, she moved as quickly as she could towards the balcony, ducking under a burning beam and past a pile of something (her clothes?) burning on the floor. The metal of the lock and handle was warped and too hot to touch. Since the sentries had no reason to break her windows earlier—they had only been after the children, after all—she had to do so now. The glass shattered with two blows from her fist, allowing her to stumble onto the small balcony, gasping for clean air, as billowy black smoke chased after her. She clung to the banister, allowing it to steady her for a moment, before lifting herself over and tumbling down to the ground ungracefully; she made only the smallest attempts to soften her impact on the grass by slowing her fall.

Still, she hit hard before rolling away from the building. She stopped only a few feet away and just laid there, face against the cold grass. Jewell focused first on just breathing. However, above the creaking of the whole house, sounding as though it were ready to implode any moment now, she heard the shout of voices. A sudden desire to be seen by neither friend nor foe possessed her. She moved in a daze, first crawling and then crouching, to the slick stone steps that led to the beach and descended them, her free hand constantly against the wall to steady her. Even when she was out of sight of the house, the pillar of smoke rose high in the air, a bloody red against the night sky.

Desperation drove her as far as the beach, but the adrenaline rush ended as she collapsed to her knees. Black spots floated before her eyes, darker than the night sky, and as she wretched on the sand before her, expelling the foreign pollutants from her lungs, those spots started to merge. Her body shook as another spell of coughing came over her. The exertion was just too much. She was fully unconscious before her head hit the sand.

[JewellRavenlock]

Falling, fallen, we all fall down
It only really matters how we stand our ground
And if and when we rise to our feet again
We'll be on our own
If and When We Rise Again—Streetlight Manifesto

Jewell’s eyes were closed. She was still sleeping, really, but she could feel the cool breeze off the ocean coming in through one of the open bedroom windows. It was refreshing, but for some reason she still didn’t want to open her eyes. Had she been having beautiful dreams that she was still trying to cling to? Perhaps. Then she felt someone lean over her, a lover’s breath tickling her ear as a gentle hand stroked her hair lovingly.

“Murinin, it be time tae wake, love.”

“Mmm,” she protested a little, trying to bury her head into her pillow.

“Come on, love. Time tae rise.”

She felt the press of a tender kiss to her cheek before she opened her eyes into a world of darkness. She could feel the waves crashing onto the sand several feet away—the spray reaching her prone form and coating her in salt thanks to the blustery autumn wind—and the dry, soft sand cushioning her cheek and being blown against her face. Even the air here was full of smoke, and she could still hear the distant roar of the fire coupled with the voices of people, perhaps do-good neighbors who had come to help or morbid bystanders who couldn’t refuse a good show.

Sitting up abruptly, only one thought was dominant in her mind: her house was burning, what was she doing lying down? Her head spun and bile, black with dust and ash, threatened at the back of her throat in response to her quick movement. Still, the desperate idea that she could do something, that she could still save her home and life, filtered through her mind before being squelched.

No. Reason argued with her: Antipholus and his men had orders. They were here to cut her ties to RhyDin. Saving the house would do nothing but delay the inevitable confrontation with them. Besides, what was the point of saving the house and all the memories it contained when her greatest possessions, her greatest ties to RhyDin, had already been taken? Her children were all gone and saving the house would only put them in greater danger, perhaps. At the very least, it would not do anything to help get them back.

Jewell sat there in the sand, allowing momentary despair to overcome her. What was she to do? How could she get her children back? Ingrained battle training, rooted deeper than even the emotions that threatened to sweep her away, took over. Jewell analyzed the situation tactically. She realized that she could absolutely not turn to her friends. One tie to RhyDin had already been burned this evening—she feared what Antipholus would do to others. Besides, there was nothing they could do anyway, was there? Her children were most likely beyond the Vale now. It wouldn’t do any good to endanger her friends. Few could follow where she needed to go and at the end of the road was a host none of them could hope to challenge; her great-grandmother’s House was both large and powerful.

The real solution was so simple, yet she internally revolted against it. She simply had to do as they wished. She pressed her fists—one clenched about her only saved treasures, the other simply clenched—into the sand. This had all been too well planned. They knew she would see resistance as futile and acquiesce to her grandmother’s request if pushed. And oh how they had pushed her! A quick look around, born on the afterthought that they still may be lurking in the shadows, showed her that she was alone. That was no real surprise to her, though. They had made the first move and the next was hers. They wanted her to come to them.

The idea of leaving RhyDin tore at her heart, but she saw no other choice. What was left for her here, anyway? Yes—that’s what they wanted her to see. There was truly nothing for her. They had destroyed her marriage (she had no doubt about their hand in that now, though to what extent was still unclear), taken her family, and burned her past. If she dared turn to friends, well…they would cut those ties too. No, there was nothing left. It was time to go.

With a straight course before her—a path to Faerie—despair fled in the face of a steely determination. She knew what she had to do; it just needed to be done now.

As an addendum, she realized that no good-byes could be made, no friends visited one last time. They would only try to dissuade her, or they would insist on aiding her to their own injury in the end. No, the Jewell who lived and loved RhyDin had just died in the flames above. She needed to let her rest there. There was no going back.

[JewellRavenlock]

No one could see me

I fell into yesterday.
Our dreams seemed not far away
I want to, I want to, I want to stay.
I fell into fantasy
Days of the Phoenix—AFI

Standing unsteadily, while drawing strength from the nearby water, Jewell clothed herself in glamour. It was a tight illusion, allowing people to see right through her. They would see nothing, for she had become nothing. That done, she left the brave volunteers to battle the raging flames of the collapsing building as she took off towards the city, only stumbling every other step at first; she could hide herself and the damage her body had undergone during the night, but she could still feel each burn, each cut, each scrape with each and every step.

She was not directionless as she walked. There was just one task she had to see to, one matter to set right before the night was through, recalled to mind by the memory of a dream-kiss placed on her cheek and the only treasure she had managed to save, clasped tightly in her hand even now. The Docks were not far from her home, but the distance was made longer by her need to avoid the WestEnd. She could not risk the chance of her magic failing, exposing her to the world. She didn’t need to be seen.

Her last walk through RhyDin was not what she would have wanted. She loved RhyDin best in the summer. Certainly, the heat produced a stink like no other, but the refreshing rain washed it all away and left the city looking clean and crisp for a few hours, steam rising off the hot paving stones as if it had all been freshly pressed. If she couldn’t have that, then she wanted deep winter, where for a time the unspoiled snow made the streets look clean, virginal, untouched by the darkness that lurked in RhyDin’s shadows and alleyways. The light and decorations cast a magic around the magical city that could not be reproduced anywhere, giving even the dark shadows a soft, sweet glow.

Instead, she had the ****-end of fall, when the trees were bare—sighing mournfully in the cold wind—and the streets were filled with their dirty, decaying leaves; there wasn’t even a satisfying crunch and crinkle to them anymore. She stepped past one pile of mushy leaves, marveling for a moment how each one had left its mark on the white paving stones: brown, star-shaped, looking for all the world like burns in the ground, the remnants of autumn lingering as winter came. Jewell wondered momentarily if she had left any such mark on RhyDin to be remembered by.

No, her final walk through the streets of RhyDin at night was not what she might wish it to be. The city was as alive as ever, beating with its own pulse, and ever more so as the hour grew late and the people of the city turned out in their own peculiar styles. The city was as alive as ever, but she was no longer part of it. It all should have been familiar but it no longer was. It all seemed strange now, and she a stranger to it. Jewell was apart, alone, a specter in the city of the living. She could no longer take part.

As she walked, the enormity of what she was doing, of what had been done and what she would have to do, slowly crept up on her. Memories lingered at every corner, in every storefront, taunting her with what she was going to have to leave behind.

Jewell passed an ice cream store, closed now until the spring, and saw herself seated with Skid at one of the few white, wrought iron tables that were set out on the wide sidewalk during nicer weather. They were sharing an enormous bowl of ice cream—more than enough for five people, perhaps—that they were polishing off between spritely conversations. Meanwhile, her children played a game of tag with his son Teshid in the street nearby.

“We would make devilishly handsome kids together, Skidling,” that Jewell remarked to her friend with a dreamy sigh as they watched the children run about, laughing.

“They’d be too beautiful for RhyDin, unfortunately.”

“Too true,” she agreed, grinning.

Jewell shook her head and moved on. A while later, she paused outside Yotsuba’s Cake Shoppe in the Marketplace, uncaring that people could easily jostle her invisible form in the still busy area. She remembered how happy Brian and Jen had been there together, living above the shop. After all the women she had seen her brother with, he had finally met his true match. She was genuinely happy for him, but she felt a pang in her own heart: she had found her own match but had turned her back on him.

When Jewell finally moved on, after staring at the Cake Shoppe for far too long, a couple walking arm-in-arm almost bumped unknowingly into her. She pressed herself against a wall and watched them move by. They were quiet as they walked but comfortable enough in each other’s company to be so. Jewell could almost see her face and that of Alex’s superimposed over theirs. The man was indeed much taller than the slight woman curled up at his side, just as she and Alex had been together. Always quiet, never communicating enough but still trying to make things work, still in love.

Eyes stinging, Jewell moved quickly from the area around the Marketplace. The wind whipped at her insufficiently clothed form, howling through the canyons created by the city buildings, the cold slowly seeping down into her very bones. She contemplated joining a long line of people waiting outside a coffee shop to gain entrance. The Town Grind brewed some of the strongest stuff in the city. She wished momentarily that she was with Issy. They had visited the shop numerous times together, drinking down the coffee fast between bits of conversation before they headed out into the West End.

“We’re sure lucky you saved Bahzel from that robber last month, otherwise we’d be stuck in line like the rest of them, Is.” Jewell remembered remarking to the Judge.

“Justice does have its perks, J.”

Jewell had taken a sip of coffee; it had been simply delicious, and it warmed the soul. “That it does.”

Resisting the urge and need for coffee now, Jewell slipped down an alleyway and continued moving onwards. A few blocks down and over from the Town Grind was a restaurant where she and Stephen had eaten once. A few couples currently braved the cold, sitting outside under large gas heaters and enjoying a candlelit dinner together. Even with the candlelight, the shadows obscured their faces from the Faerie, and she could pretend for a moment it was a summer’s evening lost to the past and she and the pirate captain sat across from each other, sharing the shy smiles of new love.

Despite passing many such familiar places, Jewell had to avoid the Inn completely. She refused to take a small detour in that direction. There were far too many memories attached to the place on top of the risk of being spotted. There were nights in room seven with Skyler, winning the Talon in Arena below, sitting comfortably beneath the protective weight of Tass’s arm around her shoulders, sitting at the bar enjoying endless antics with Tara and Amthy, and night after years of nights spent in the joyous company of many friends.

No, she avoided the Inn like the plague. She could afford no such distraction tonight.

[JewellRavenlock]

I have arrived so unashamed, but all my senses no longer seem the same.
I can sense everything.
My sight’s so clear.
In an instant, my life just slipped away.
Exsanguination—AFI

As Jewell neared Dockside, passing through several streets of a neighborhood that seemed less familiar than others were and what many would call “modern,” she paused in front of a store. She had a brief feeling of déjà vu—had she ever stood here before?—but ignored it in light of what had caught her eye.

She stepped closer to the window of the storefront, her fingers reaching up to touch it, and stared at the many viddys, televisions, holoscreens, and memory orbs inside. Each and every one of them displayed a shot of her burning house, courtesy of RhyDin’s Sleepless News. The organization was keeping to its promise: Its reporters never slept!

The volume was turned up on the different sets, an attempt on the shop-owner’s part to catch the attention of passer-buyers; it had certainly worked this evening, although Jewell was the only one caught truly by what was being displayed. As she stood there, invisible, a few other people passed by, tsk’ing and shaking their heads at the tragedy.

“How awful,” they remarked before moving on with their own lives. At least their own lives could still move on. Jewell stood there, fixated with the image of her life turning to ash.

The scene on the screens cut from the house to a man in fire fighter’s garb, speaking to a woman with a microphone; the house was still burning in the background. “I’m standing here with Chief Bowmeen of one of RhyDin’s volunteer fire departments present here this evening to battle the fire raging at what we now know to be Jewell Ravenlock’s estate. Chief Bowmeen, what can you tell us? How are your men doing fighting the flames?”

They were talking about her house, her life. The reality of the situation was crushing. This was really happening. This wasn’t a nightmare she was going to wake up from, some test of character someone had set in front of her before allowing her to return to her real life. Her lungs constricted; her breathing quickened. This was happening.

“Unfortunately, by the time we arrived on the scene, the building was already engulfed. Some neighbors had done their best to stem the tide, but there was really nothing anyone could do. Right now, we’re just doing our best to make sure nothing else catches fire while we just have to let it burn.”

“I understand you have several mages on your team. Is there really nothing they can do?”

The chief passed a hand over his face, looking weary already. He shifted his helmet to rest under his left arm. Jewell imagined someone probably had called him from his nice warm bed to the scene being played out behind him now. “I do. Unfortunately, as I mentioned, the fire was well out of control by the time we got here. It would do little good for them to even attempt to control it at this point. Plus, my men mentioned something about the magic fields in the area being warped somehow, possibly due to the strength of the fire.”

Yes, the strength of the fire. A fire created by magic, by mages who knew more about what they were doing than any of those silly firefighters ever would. Of course they would make sure the fire couldn’t be stopped. These men were just wasting their time. They were wasting their time to save her. But she was already dead, wasn’t she? Far beyond saving now. She was dead, dead, dead.

“I see,” though it was clear that the information went over the reporter’s head. She had been hired for her looks and perky smile at all hours of the night, not her IQ. “And is there any news on the occupants of the house?”

“According to the neighbors, the family entered the house earlier today. All the horses and their carriage are still in the stable, and no one saw them leave otherwise. We haven’t rescued anyone, but no bodies have been found either. We’re not trying to jump to conclusions, but right now the whole family is missing, presumed dead.”

“Thank you.”

As the shot returned to that of the burning building, people milling around it at a safe distance, Jewell forced herself to turn away, leaving a streak of oily, sooty fingerprints on the glass of the window. She placed her back to the window as she tried to retrain herself to breathe correctly. She needed to be able to think clearly but her mind was reeling with the realness of what was going on.

As she forced herself to breathe slowly, the tightness in her chest loosened and she took in gulps of the cool air, tinged with the scent of oncoming winter; she found herself able to think again. Of course they hadn’t found any bodies at the scene, but somehow she didn’t put it past Antipholus to arrange for them to find such evidence at a later time. Her jaw clenched at the thought before she relaxed it with a sigh; it would be better off if they did find bodies. She wanted to be dead to the world, after all. But to go like this? Dead in her sleep, in the middle of the night, in a common house fire like some old, decaying mortal. It was not only insulting but revolting. Jewell Ravenlock of RhyDin was meant for greater things, deserved better than this. She fought to regain her determination and resolve to continue as her eyes burned with unshed tears. She did not want to move, take one step forward, but she could not back down from the path now so clearly laid before her.

With another sigh, the ghost of Jewell continued on her way. She refused to stay longer and watch her past burn down. If she kept walking, she might not need to think about it at all.

[JewellRavenlock]

Don’t feel.
Don’t love anything.
Love attracts all those who taint the cherished.
Don’t try to change anything.
Nothing pure can ever stay.
They’ll say “relax, you’ll be fine.”
All we love goes away.
They’ll take all you let them find… It was mine.
It Was Mine--AFI

Across town Stephen was running like he had never run before up the western north road that led to the string of fancy estates and houses that bordered the ocean there. He had heard about the fire only minutes before but was already close enough to smell the smoke strongly in the air and see the brightness of the flames above the treetops. Jewell’s house had become a burning beacon in the night, drawing all sorts of people to it. He picked up his pace.

He had been sitting in the Powdered Keg, where he normally could be found when in port these days, drinking when he overheard a conversation next to him. “There be a mighty bit of smoke comin’ into the city this evening, spect a fire must be ragin’,” one man said to another as he took a seat at the bar beside him.

“Fire indeed. ‘eard there was one ragin’ pretty strong up on the west coast side there. Up where all those pretty estates be.”

Whereas Stephen had been staring broodily into his drink, suddenly the men had his undivided attention.

“Oh yeah,” another guy spoke up. “Jus’ caught a news cast while comin’ in. They said it was some Ravenclaw estate or other. Really fancy tah-do place. Probably loaded up in gold.”

“I wonder if they’ll be watchin’ the place tomorrow with the guards, might be a good chance to slip on over there…”

Stephen had already stopped listening before they began to plot out a way to loot the burnt estate, everything blocked out as he experienced pure, icy panic gripping at his heart. His hands had stopped halfway in bringing his glass to his mouth, now sending it tumbling to the bar top as he stood quickly. Ravenclaw? Ravenlock! What difference was it to these men? Oh, but it meant the world to him. He had to leave, now. He was rushing for the door, not even noticing that he had spilled most of his drink on his coat when he stood up.

“Hey Capn’ Kidd, where you be off tah in such hurry? No good diggin’ through the rubble when the buildins still burnin’.”

Captain Kidd didn’t hear him though. The second he was out the door, he took off at a blind run towards the Northwest community. His mind was a mess, rushing through all the ‘what if’s and ‘if only’s; fortunately, his feet knew the way.

As Stephen got closer to her home—although it had once been their home for a time—Jewell drew close to the Pride & Fury.

She felt as though she had been walking for hours, but she had no way to judge how much time had really passed. Jewell could only tell that it had indeed been some time since she had left the burning wreckage of her life because now the moon was rising high in the sky; she knew that somewhere across the city her house was competing to outshine that heavenly entity, perhaps drawing strength for one more outburst of flame before it began to putter and die.

Her whole body hurt, and each step was becoming more painful than the last. She had begun to focus on the pain several blocks back, categorizing each scrape, scratch, and burn and how it felt as she moved. It gave her something to focus on, so that she didn’t have to focus on everything else. It was just too big to handle right now. Her mind continually repeated: Just get to Stephen and everything will work out; just complete this next step and don’t even think about the one after that. So that’s exactly what she did.

When the harbor came into view, the Pride & Fury unmistakable even amongst many other ships, Jewell picked up her pace. ‘Just get to the Fury and everything will be okay.’ The ship promised a brief respite. Grasping the necklaces ever tighter in her hand, she approached cautiously. Even though garbed in a strong glamour, she wanted to avoid being accidentally bumped into; furthermore, she could feel the strain the magic was placing on her body. She needed to drop the illusion and soon. Moreover, the emotional strain of the night was wearing on her. Every few moments she could feel her breath hitch as her mind touched upon what she had lost tonight (and what she was still going to have to abandon) before she forced it to think of other things.

Jewell was near her breaking point and there was only one person she trusted herself around when she got there. She drifted up the gangplank, slipping by members of Stephen’s crew like a wraith, and moved towards his cabin. It had been theirs once, but she tried not to think about that too. Just a few more steps and she could drop the glamour; just a few more steps and she would feel safe, at least for a little while. Even as she opened the door to his cabin slowly, calling out his name quietly, “Stephen?” its occupant was stepping onto the lane that led to her estate.

“No…” Stephen had known without a doubt, as he got closer and closer to the estate, that it was her house burning. There were too many people headed in that direction; the smoke had been thicker and thicker as he approached. But to stand there and actually see it burning? He froze momentarily in horror. Then he was rushing forward in mindless action, running at the building even as the fire crew worked to push everyone back away from it. “Jewell!”

He kept pushing and pushing forward, paying no heed to the hands and arms that were grabbing onto him, pulling him back, and then men that were shouting at him. “Sir, you can’t go there! Sir, we have to pull back. That building is coming down any second now.”

Stephen thrashed against them, throwing them off him with little effort before continuing his march forward. He had to get into that building. He had to save them.

It took six men to finally bring him down.

[JewellRavenlock]

This is me coming back to get you out to say goodbye, to make amends

And if you go, I'll be gone
And you'll be left alone to live your life, as you please
But someday you'll agree that I was always meant for you
You were always meant for me and you will see...
The Big Sleep—Streetlight Manifesto

Jewell paced Stephen’s cabin on the Fury. Time held no meaning for her, but it felt like it had been forever since she had stepped onto the Pride & Fury only to find Stephen not there. Hadn't this happened before? Jewell had a vague recollection of Vinny’s hand smashing against her face, tears streaming down her cheeks, and a voice in her head. She couldn't get her thoughts straight, though; everything was jumbled together, and she avoided focusing on any of it for fear she'd just break. Past, present, future: none of it was safe to dwell on, each bringing its own unpleasantries. So Jewell just grasped the necklaces tight in her hand, circling the cabin once more.

Stephen hadn't dwelled long at the smoldering remains of the Ravenlock Villa; no something inside his brain instinctively drew him away. He walked blindly, simply following his own feet until he realized he was standing at the gangplank to the Fury. Looking up, he realized somewhere deep inside that she had drawn him here. He raced up the gangplank and across the deck. The door to his cabin nearly came loosed from its hinges as he burst inside, relieved momentarily at what waited therein for him.

Her back had been turned when he entered, but there could be no mistaking her, even with the burns, bruises, and overall sooty appearance. The momentary doubt that filled her mind when she felt him nearer--"Why did you come here? You should have just left"--was pushed aside by the relief and desperate need for comfort she felt. Comfort from him most of all. She turned when he entered and practically threw herself at him: arms around him and face against his chest. Even as she told herself not to cry, hot tears traced their way down her cheeks.

Stephen caught her in his embrace as she fell into him. He held her close, trying to sooth her, stroking the back of her head and neck. He spoke soft, comforting words as he impulsively kissed the top of her head. “Tis okay muirnin, yer safe.”

Against her better judgment, she allowed herself to indulge in his comfort, to pretend for a few moments that everything really was going to be okay. The tension in her muscles eased momentarily. Couldn't she just stay like this forever? Jewell felt her resolve that she made on the beach weakening. Why did this have to be her fate? Maybe it didn’t have to be. She allowed herself a few more moments of indulgence, a few more moments to pretend. She listened to his comforting words and tried to put faith in them. She wanted so badly to believe that everything would be okay and that she would be safe.

She couldn’t, though. This was her fate; she hadn’t been given a choice. Having composed herself somewhat with the aid of Stephen’s presence, she pulled back from him a little, shaking her head against the words he spoke. "No, I'm not safe. This isn't over…they'll come back and I have to go. I have to!" She was suddenly looking at him, pleading for understanding even though she knew she made little sense; she was really just trying to convince herself of the need to go.

Stephen shook his head to try and clear away the confusion. “Who will be back? …Have to go where?”

Jewell took a deep breath. She needed to be calm to explain this, at least as calm as she could be in such a situation. "Stephen, I didn't come here for help or protection." Her eyes were still teary; she had broken the seal and could barely hold them back anymore. "They... my family, my mother's family in the Lands," she gestured widely, as if they were out over the open sea somewhere, "they came and they... they burned everything." Her chest heaved as she tried not to sob at that thought. "They took the kids, and I have to go get them."

“They...took the...” He reached up to his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He took a deep breath before looking to her eyes once more. “We will go get them, tis all there be tae it.”

She loved him so utterly and completely in that moment; how he could be strong for her when she was weak even now, even after everything that had been said and done. She couldn’t let him, though. Not anymore. "No no no," she groaned, frustrated with herself. She wasn't explaining this right, but she knew she absolutely could not get him involved in any way. How stupid had she been to come here? Wasn’t that getting him involved? Jewell turned her back and took up pacing again in a tight circle, unable to stay still as she rambled: "It's not that simple. They're beyond the Veil by now. They want me there for some reason and this was how they did it. They took everything, burned everything." She pressed her fists to her temples; saying it out loud was almost too much to handle. "They took them beyond the Vale and..." she stopped her somewhat erratic movements, looking to him sorrowfully, "Stephen you cannot go with me there."

[JewellRavenlock]

Hold me closely now but don’t say anything.
They’ve come to take me away and won’t leave until I’m gone.
It Was Mine--AFI

The whole thing was confusing; it didn't help that his initial reaction was always to fight, to rail violently against those who hurt him or those he cared about. “'ow do we know tha'? We 'ave nae e'er tried. We can bring…” His mind raced as his words faltered, simply stopping in mid-sentence.

Jewell shook her head sadly, lowering her eyes. She spoke to him softly, "Stephen, even if you somehow could, it would be of no use. The two of us together? We would stand no chance. My family's house is powerful. There's just no way." Her own frustration at being so trapped, manipulated like this, was clear in the furrow of her brow and the clenching of her hands. When did a Ravenlock ever just give up?

"Ye be nae the only one wha' loves those children Jewell!" Stephen nearly bellowed at her in his frustration. "Hell if'n ye asked fer it 'alf o' this god fersaken town would come tae 'elp ye. An' jus' the two o' us? Since when were tha' nae enough?" The whole situation was leaving him feeling powerless.

She shrunk back from him a little, not in fear but from the sheer volume of his voice. Thoughts ran rampant through her mind: This wasn't working as she had hastily planned. There was no way he was going to let her just waltz out of here and face her family herself. How she had ever underestimated him and thought that he would just let her leave, she didn't know. She took a deep breath, and when she spoke again her voice was quiet and small; "I'm sorry, Stephen. You're right. I was being selfish." She shook her head, "I wasn't thinking. I just don't know what to do to fix this. Everything fell apart too quickly. I wasn’t prepared for this."

"I can rouse Fischer and the rest o' the crew; we could 'ave the Fury ready tae ma'e sail by the mornin' tides. Robert will wan' tae come too ye know." Stephen gave her a certain look as he paced the width of the cabin.

"Of course," she nodded, head lowered out of apparent weariness. Her resolve was fading with each word he spoke, leaving exhaustion in its wake. She would never be able to stand strong against him. "I'd have to contact my brother and some others, the Sisters…"

Stephen nodded readily, "Of course." He moved towards his map table, moving to grab a few things. "Let me rouse Fischer an' leave orders wit' him then I will go wit' ye tae see Brian an' the Sisters."

Jewell reached out to place a restraining hand on his arm, "Can we wait until morning?" She looked up at him imploringly. "I need to rest," if her words weren't convincing enough, the way her hand shook on his arm certainly was. "And...” she swallowed hard; could she dare ask this? “I just need you to hold me right now.” After pausing a moment: “Please?"

Stephen looked to her questioningly. "But I thought..." Even though he was curious as to why the sudden change in urgency, he didn't see a need to add more aggravation to the situation by pushing her.

"I can barely function as I am now," she laughed dryly, finding no real humor in the truth of her statement, as she wiped at her eyes; the tears seemed to continually form there. "It's all too big to deal with, and I just want to close my eyes."

Stephen nodded ‘of course’ as he moved towards Jewell. His hands were gentle on her shoulders as he guided her. "Lay down for a bit."

She didn't need more urging than that, every muscle in her body practically screaming for rest. Despite her overall appearance and state of uncleanness--what part of her wasn't covered in a fine layer of soot and ash?--she curled up on the bed only to look up at him with wide eyes: "You'll stay with me, won't you?" Only around him could she be so openly vulnerable, her fear of being left alone right now when everything else had already been taken from her tonight too clear.

Already making his way onto the bed, Stephen lay softly next to her. "I'll stay right 'ere murinin," he said softly as he wrapped his arms around her.

She practically clung to him again just as she had when he had first entered the cabin, her “thank you” almost lost as she buried her face against his chest. After a moment, she lifted her head a little, placing a feather-light kiss along his jaw and whispering, "I love you, Stephen."

Stephen pressed a kiss to the top of her forehead. "I 'ave loved ye always, murinin." With such a reassurance, with her body pushed to the limits, and despite the trials that night had held, it was easy for her to fall asleep nestled at his side.

[JewellRavenlock]

"I speak no comfort to you, for there is no comfort for such pain within the circles of the world. The uttermost choice is before you: to repent and go to the Havens and bear away into the West the memory of our days together that shall there be evergreen but never more than a memory; or else to abide the Doom of Men."
-Aragorn to Arwen, Appendix to Return of the King

It was not yet dawn. Jewell crept around Stephen’s cabin; even though it had been some time since she had been there, she still found her way around in the dark with little trouble. She should have been sleeping still—the only undisturbed sleep she had known since she had parted with Stephen—or at least resting as her body sorely needed it. Instead, she stood hovering over the map table in the graying light, shaky hands busily occupied in holding a piece of parchment still as she wrote upon it.

When the sun should have been rising—instead it was obscured by a misty morning and unable to burn through the cloud cover—Jewell returned back to the bed where she had fallen asleep, contently wrapped up in Stephen’s arms. She placed something upon it before leaning forward to kiss Stephen’s forehead. He mumbled incoherently in his sleep, reaching out for her. She brushed back his hair, soothing him into a deeper sleep with a touch of magic. Once he stilled, she lingered watching him a moment before turning and exiting the cabin. The door did not squeak to betray her; her foot steps were light as air on the weathered boards. As she emerged on deck, she wrapped herself in glamour once more before passing the awakening crew and descending to the streets below.

When Stephen awoke later in the morning to the sounds of the docks coming alive, he had only a letter at his side to console him.

My Stephen,

There are no words I can offer you to soften this betrayal. Telling you that it is for your own good sounds trite and much less than you deserve even if it is the truth.

Regardless, know that I am gone and any attempts to follow me will be futile. I am gone beyond your reach now love, and I will not be coming back. I came to you last night not because I wanted your aid, knowing that you would never deny me such, nor because I needed your strength to lean upon once more as you often allowed me to do in the past. I came because I knew I must leave and the idea of not saying goodbye to you and trying to set things right was unbearable.

However, as you apparently have the power of doing, you rendered me speechless and unable to tell you what I had to before I left. This letter, insufficient as it is, must suffice for all I would say. Know that none of this is easy to write—even now my hand trembles and my heart quakes—and it is only the iron strength within me, which both you and Isuelt always acknowledged but I could never see, that allows me to do what I must.

And I must leave. I should have known that if I tried to tell you this, you would only convince me to stay, and how could I ever refuse you? You are my weakness. But there is no other path for me and I do refuse to be detained, even by you. My family has decided my fate. They have discovered my only other weakness besides you and have exploited it. If I do not bow to their commands… I cannot bear the thought of what harm they might do to the children. Further, if I try to resist them, it will only end in more pain. They have exploited my one weakness; I will not have them even attempt a feint at my other.

I know what you will say and while my modesty (ever doubted) would deny it, I too know that this city would stand in my defense if asked. I will not allow it. Stephen, the words I spoke about the power my great-grandmother wields were an understatement. Few forces in RhyDin can even dream of standing against her. I will not involve my friends in a battle that we will surely lose to the detriment of all. The thought of them harming you and others pains me too greatly. And know that they would. They will be relentless until they get what they want, and I will not put others in danger in a desperate and useless bid for my freedom.

There is no returning from this. They will forever hold the children and whatever else they can over my head to get what they want from me, although I do not know what that is. How can I not comply? Do not imagine that this is the way I wish things to be, but I have no choice. They have burned my ties to RhyDin. That was their intent. I will not allow them to burn any more; I will cut these ties myself. It must be this way. It would be best for everyone to believe the flames my family started took my life. It would have been better for you to believe that as well. I am sorry that I could not spare you the pain of knowing that I am alive but that I must remain dead to you.

I do not wish to leave RhyDin. This is my home. I have never felt safe and myself anywhere else. However, leave I will. Writing this is painful, but you well know my sense of duty. I cannot refuse the call of it now. My path is clear; I diverged only for you. I came to tell you last night but words cannot express how sorry I am for the way things went between us last spring. I still cannot offer you justification for my actions, only my sincerest regrets. Although this will not make my leaving any easier on you, you must know: I love you. I have not stopped loving you. I belong with you. My greatest trial in leaving is knowing that I cannot be with you.

Live as though I am dead, my love. I am dead, but we were given the chance that few receive of saying goodbye before I left this world. I leave all that I have and was to you, though much was lost last night. Mourn me as you will and do not hope in my return or that we should ever meet again. Do not live your life on such false hopes. I ask you to only tell Tara and Skid the truth of what has transpired if you must; allow them to comfort you as they have always been a comfort to me. For everyone else, for RhyDin, I am dead and gone.

I take only my Claddagh ring from RhyDin and the three necklaces you gave me; everything else, save memories, I leave behind. Know that I will always wear this ring on my right hand, heart pointing in. It was a mistake for me to ever take it off. In turn, I leave you with my most precious of all possessions: my name to remember. It will have to suffice.

Ta gra agam ort, Stephen… more than you may ever know.

Jewell stood cloaked and hidden within a cocoon of magic outside the Pride & Fury, staring at the porthole of Stephen’s cabin. She was aware of the appearance of two Faerie men just down the way from her; they stuck to the shadows and were obscured by the mist as they observed her. Still, she stood and watched until she was sure that Stephen was awake and reading her letter. Her final task done, she turned away with a nod and walked towards the two awaiting her, head held high. This was no defeatist surrender. The soldiers met her halfway, flanking her sides as she continued down the cobblestone street. Jewell walked as if the men weren’t even there, staring straight ahead at the path laid out for her, eventually disappearing into the mourning mists.

So I left my home, took a whole new name.
Blessed be the ghost the fire claims today.
Breathing Towers to Heaven—AFI