This time, Temken stood ready. He reached out, slowly, the tip of his finger touching hers in the simplest of gestures. Warmth flooded her, the magic coursing through her with energy. It was enough to break the hold once again, to give her the choice of action or withdrawal, courage or despair. She looked to the wilting orchid. Its fading sight reminded her too much of the broken promises of before and almost pulled her down with it as the darkness swept in closer to claim her. She fought against it. She did not want this.
She would do anything she could to kill the shadow.
In the snatch of song that haunted her, echoing within her mind from long ago, Gwenna responded to the reminder that a wilting flower was as much a cause for joy as for sadness. The cycle of life controlled everything in nature's world. Everything born of the earth returned to the earth eventually, and from death always came new life. Gwenna reached out, as Temken had tried to teach her, accepting the orchid's death as the turn of nature's wheel. From it something else could grow, and she drew upon it for herself, soaking it in as the ground drinks fresh rainwater. She allowed it to strengthen her, to give her the resolve to meet the shadow's corrupt embrace as it moved through her and was caught.
Whispering Gaea's song, Gwenna drew the shadow into her snare. It struggled, railing at her with the cold touch of death. Gwenna felt its pains and fears. Just as despair had so many times worked to sap her will and her strength, so now the fear of the shadow worked against it, making it vulnerable. The song in her mind and in her heart grew stronger until it wrapped about them both. It lured the shadow deeper into Gaea's embrace, where it screamed inside Gwenna's mind.
Temken brought his fingers from the earth. The heavy residue had stained them black. Not the foul black of the bayou, this time it was the rich, loamy color of fertile farmland. That, too, would fade as his magic lost its hold and the orchid died, but it was enough for now to remind him of the cycle and the cost that life sometimes demanded. He stared at his hands, at the slowly fading orchid, at anything but the figure standing just over his shoulder.
He rose and turned in one fluid motion, meeting Gwenna's tortured gaze. Her eyes stared ahead, unblinking. A single tear of bright red blood welled at the corner of her eye and then trailed down her cheek. The gaunt-ness of her face had faded, drawn inward with the shadow's poison, leaving her with a touch of her youth in these final hours-perhaps her final moments.
"You should hurry," she said, the words softly slipping between lips that barely moved. "I can hold it only so long."
The mage frowned, biting his lower lip as he considered. "We could try to kill it," he offered, sensing even as he put the idea into words that it would not work.
Gwenna blinked away a ripple of pain, her opaline eyes falling on Temken. "It is already dead," she said.
The magic still wrapped about him, Temken felt Gwenna's life-force draining away as she used it to hold the Shadow imprisoned. Piece by piece she sold herself to counter its attempts to escape. Temken felt the struggle raging, just as he had originally sensed her final decision to lure the shadow to her and hold it fast. He had thought to try such a tactic himself, binding both his own life-force and the primal essence of the shadow to the orchid's power, but now he doubted that he would have been able to succeed. Temken had not lived for decades here in the bayou, adapting to the darker side. He had never come to terms with the shadow, the way he somehow knew that Gwenna had. To hold it within himself would almost certainly have killed him.
He still wondered at the shadow's origins and what exactly governed its existence now, but those were questions to which he doubted he would ever have answers. Whatever the shadow had been or was, Gwenna had known it long enough to identify its basic nature. It hated, yes. But it also needed. It needed the elves in the bayou to feed off of, to survive. But even if it existed outside Gaea's embrace, the shadow could still be made to obey her laws when it intruded upon nature's world. But the price… Temken bowed to Gwenna's resolve and silently thanked her for the sacrifice she made.
As if awakening from a long nightmare, elves stumbled from their huts or rose from their lethargic positions. Some did not rise and never would again. They were part of Gaea's price, exacted so that others might live and bring life into the world again. Most were crying, the pain on their faces was the first real sign of animation Temken had seen.
"Assemble quickly," he said, voice thick with emotion. "We must leave the bayou."
A few thought to move toward Gwenna, hands reaching out in sympathy, but Temken stepped in front of them.
"Go," he commanded. "Gaea will watch over her." They grabbed what few traveling articles they could find in moments.
Temken turned back and saw that Gwenna was nearly lost to him. Her green eyes dimmed, as she turned her energies to the inward battle.
"This day," he said softly, willing her to hear, "you have absolved yourself of any blame an elf might still have held for you, Gwenna. There is no greater gift than life."
He gently took her by the shoulders and eased her to the ground near his orchid. Her face and the flower both recovered a spot of color before they began to fade again, this time more slowly.
"Let the orchid sustain you for as long as possible, and Gaea will bring you to her before it can hurt you again," Temken said. Before he could think the better of it, he spoke the name he had denied his lips for too long. "Argoth will rise again," he promised Gwenna. "We will rebuild."
In a gray-lit clearing, completing a rough circle of dark and abandoned huts, Gwenna sat upon water-laden ground with her back to the heart of the bayou. An icy rain began to sprinkle down, spattering against pools of water and slowly churning the ground. The orchid's lavender pistils dripped water into the flower's cup, and petals sagged with the extra weight. The irregular rhythm of its wash played accompaniment to the gusting wind that rubbed branches together and sawed at the long grasses. The rain carried with it the hint of brine, borne in from the not-too-distant ocean. It was a clean scent.
Gwenna continued to hum Gaea's song. In her mind, the shadow grew stronger as it warred with nature's memory-her memory of Argoth. The elves had left. Animals died. Forests were stripped away, the land itself sunk from sight, rolled over by oil-slicked water. The air grew cold and tasted stale. But even as the shadow finally slipped away, exuding rage in its newfound strength and ready to feed upon her remaining life, the land rose once more within her mind. Plant and animal and elf returned as the memory flourished. Argoth rose. With the last of her strength Gwenna allowed herself to slip away into the memory, carried on Gaea's song and her promise- that life would always follow.
Red
Red is the color of release, the hue of outward expression and excitement. It is hard to be indifferent about red. It may be loved or feared, but it is seldom disregarded. It is characterized as aggressive, vigorous, and given to impulse and mood. Those associated with red are sometimes accused of lacking patience or possessing a quick temper, but red also embodies a fervent passion and feeling for fellow beings. Red is signified by fire, blood, lava, and emotion. It manifests itself as bursts of outward expression and outspoken tirades. Red characterizes those who know what needs to be done and aren't afraid to do it, for those who want results and action instead of deliberation and debate, for those who like the cathartic pleasures of flame.