World of Warcraft®

Smoke curled from the tips of her claws. Her clothing singed and drifting from her body as ashes. The sight of another vagrant running out of the opening of the mines buried beneath the town sparked another bolt of fury in her and fire emanated from her skin, pooled into a ball in her hands, and lashed out at the foolish man. Her breaths came in spurts, deep and heavy. Sweat beaded at her brow where the skin discolored with the arcane poisoning. Patches around her eyes had faint arcane energy lines of red crackling in the darkened skin. Her purple skin getting darker, more onyx, more radiant.

With her breaths deepening as she poured more of herself into the destruction, the overwhelming joy of indulging the most vile nature of her magic usage, Izby knew she had to stop. That she was killing herself and if she didn't stop, she would collapse here. Exposed and unconscious. A target for the willing retaliation of those who survived her wrath. Another massive ball of fire left her hands and she doubled over, one hand on her stomach, the other on her knee. Breaths coming out like clouds of smoke now. Her skin hurting to touch and something in her mind snapped. A switch from glee in destruction to survival. She'd been awaiting this moment. Every time she indulged in this behavior, the three or four times she'd done so in all of her years, the switch happened. However, it kept moving further away from her. A few more episodes like this and it would be beyond death's grasp.

She pulled the clouds of smoke expelled from her lips and wrapped them around her finger, spinning them like a cotton puller to stretch it out, until before her, she held a small cloud in her hand. A shot rang through the air and wood exploded in a thundering crack behind her as she glanced up, glaring at the man reloading his rifle. A yearning deep inside of her begged her to retaliate. An elusive desire for escape responded equally deep but more muted than the other. She latched onto it, forced herself onto the spun cloud, and took off skyward. The yearning again, roared deep within herself, and she staggered. Faltering upon the energy stream propelling her forward, she hurtled back towards the Feathers' bar.

The collection of pillows that served as her bed, wrapped themselves around her in a comforting cocoon, isolating her from all feeling, all outside pain, and most importantly the woman in the kitchen that hurt her this way. Izby understood it wasn't intentional. She'd been gone for a year, helping the Timewalkers with no word, no acknowledgment of her existence. She could have been dead and to a shorter lived race, it was best to presume that and move on that it was to squander in the mire of depression. Wallowing in self-pity, useless to everyone. The reasons for moving on made sense, but that did not prevent them from inflicting this much pain. For the first time in many years, Izby wanted to burn everything around. She wanted to give voice to her pain and frustration by the most violent means she could imagine.

The screams of the female Bloodsails rang in her ears as she tried to sleep. A memory playing in repeat through her mind. The iron thick smell of blood. The gurgling sound of it boiling. The sight of the bodies, flayed and burnt laying around her as she melted the sand to glass underfoot. She could feel the satisfying glee warming her skin as she tormented the young sailor by deliberately burning his internal organs and nerves to cause him pain and cause him to twitch beyond control. To make him feel how she felt inside.

Naaru, forgive her, but he was just a child. A young boy scarcely with enough hair to be considered a man and she found joy in her actions. A delight in her wanton lust to explore a power within her that reaped joy in the destruction and harm others experienced. Like vapor, her joy vanished, replaced with the crushing exhaustion of guilt. The burden that she would now have to carry for the eternity of her life over a heart break. Over a woman. Over something so simple and so minuscule that it began to infuriate her once more.

She rose from her pillows and crept across the room to find a drink of water and a gift from a friend. A small insignificant gift. A hat from a Gnome with a penchant for misunderstanding that at once reminded her why she needed her control. There were people she cared for that may not survive without some protections. More importantly, there were people she cared for, even the one that hurt her, whom she did not wish to harm in her recklessness. She set the empty water glass back down and went back to sleep. The icy resolve that frost brings, soothing her to start the slow process of healing that was about to unfold.

[ Stunning. ]

The blaring horns of ships in the harbor roused the magi from her slumber. She opened her eyes to have them pierced by the streams of light coming through the curtains and quickly they were closed again. Izby pulled a pillow over her face and slowly attempted to reopen her eyes, adjusting to the surrounding optical violence. It is always that first morning light that is so offensive, aggressive, and destructive to the retina and mood upon waking. How are you supposed to have a good day if you wake irritated?

When she felt she had adjusted her eyes enough to withstand the onslaught of the day, she tossed the pillow to the side and ran a hand through her hair. The room was a mess. Her robes were strewn over the back of the chair and floor. Her gloves hung from an oil lamp which thankfully had not been on or it would have burnt down more than her room. Her cloak dangled off the door handle as if it been thrown at it more than deliberately placed there. But there was more there than that. Riding leathers too small to be her own hung from the bed post supporting her pile of pillows. A decorative leather tunic laid upon the floor between the bed and the door. Pictures on the walls were askew. Cannons fired off the coast to announce the hour and the bay shook.

“Okay, maybe the picture were not our fault,” she thought.

Beside her rested another elf. Not the same as the first one. Not the one that broke her apart and unleashed her fury. This one wanted to help her. Sort of. She mostly wanted to take advantage of the sport of flesh and Izby was not inclined to disagree, but she did want to fix what was broken. The valve that allowed the fire magicks to consume her when she experienced hatred, anger, or fury. The fires fed the emotional flames and she would burn for days. The flames licking up the inside of her thigh or along her spine, kissing her at the nape. They provided the sensual comfort along with the violence. A towering inferno of passion that made her look more and more like one pissed off Eredar coming to reap the souls of the misbegotten and unfortunate.

She reached down and brushed the woman's hair behind her ear and marveled at the marks upon her back. Some of them fresh and some of them old. Izby left the room and went down the fall to fetch water and fresh bandage linens. She passed by her old lover's room and paused, sorrow filling her heart. The bubble of hatred for the other woman, the one that stole her chala began to boil and she quickly moved on to her task at hand, moving further down the hall to the restrooms. As she filled the cup with water and steam filled the room, no tears came. Frozen in thought, it dawned that the bubble of hatred did not feel as intense as before. Even the echoes of past phrases from the woman of “you're evil” and “you don't deserve her” didn't seem to ignite the flames in the same manner. Had she moved on? No that didn't seem right because the pain hurt as before. Then she looked at the glass and smiled.

The door clicked softly and a muffled voice rose from the pillows. “You left.”

“Your back is bleeding. I thought it might be wise to clean it up before I took care of the wounds.”

“You're going to tend to me after you did this to me? That's a new experience. Usually, I have to take care of myself.”

Izby blushed as she dabbed the cloth into the glass of water and wiped softly at the wounds, dabbing at them before wiping the dried blood away. A few scratches wept and she bent over to kiss them shut with the blessing the Naaru had bestowed upon her. Her fingers often diverting to trail across the scars and trace the bones in the spine or shoulder blades, familiarizing her with their form. Memorizing them.

“I walked past her room.”

“And?”

“I did not want to kill the other one.”

“You're moving on. Good for you Bee.”

“The hatred was still the same. I think I simply satiated the destructive tendencies with you.”

“It was good.”

“I wonder if it can serve as a supplement so I remove this accursed rune. I want my control and if I happen to inflict my more destructive tendencies upon a willing victim, maybe that will help me regain it.”

“Worth a shot. Now why are you still over there?”

Izby smiled, put the glass down and bit the other woman's lip before succumbing to her passions. Carnal and arcane.

[[ merci beaucoup ami ]]

((*is on edge of seat*))

The restaurant began to fill with the usual cluster of vagabonds and travelers through the bay. Many of them still sporting the armors they adorned for their trip through the relentless assault of the unforgiving jungle. Others sported the offensive odors of weeks at sea upon the many vessels trying to traverse around the maelstrom without casualties. Then there were others in the restaurant who were familiar faces, but not for this local such as Imperon and Nyuula.

Izby looked down at her time piece, a gift from her past lover that she found too useful to give up, but still inflicting the tiny dagger to the heart that it caused. The other staffers had not yet arrived to start their shifts and she frowned knowing that she was not supposed to enter into the kitchen without supervision or permission after her many transgressions that Liabelle was punishing her for. In other words, she was grounded. Which pretty much offended Izby that someone her younger would think it appropriate, but she did serve under Lia and that was justification enough. Not to mention she was at one point dating her daughter. Another notch against the Draenei. However, with no one to start the kitchen, she sighed heavily and began to stoke the fire in the oven and prepare foods that Gala might use to cook this evening. She started by moving tiger flanks from the largest ice chest into a smaller one and pulled out potatoes and started washing them. She pulled out a tiny peeler, well tiny to her, but probably appropriate to a smaller race, and began to struggle through the efforts to peel the potatoes. Frustrated that it took her five minutes to peel one potato, she let the current of energy flow out of her to control the peeler and potatoes and the peeling moved and an incredibly faster pace.

“I'm late. I'm late. Oh I'm so sorry I'm late,” the half-elf muttered as she ran into the tavern and sprinted behind the kitchen counter where Izby was finishing up the potatoes.

“I started preparing the kitchen for you. I did not know what you were cooking so... I just washed produce and prepared flanks for you cha- Gala,” her voice caught as she almost mistakenly referred to her ex by the pet name. A pet name that described the former relationship in its entirety. The rune on her left forearm began to itch but she ignored it and went back to her seat.

Gala glanced around the kitchen trying to assess what Izby had started before looking out to her seat. “Did you a- did you start any-anything?” her voice strained with the tension in their awkwardness.

Izby didn't even look across the table at Nyuula, her companion for the evening, and instead looked at the floor. “No.”

“Ah, o-okay. D-did you have any-anything in mind?”

“Whatever, whatever you will prepare for me will suffice.” Izby wanted to summon the cool of frost to calm her system but couldn't and the rune's itch intensified.

While Izby wasn't looking or speaking, sulking her head in depressed shame, Nyuula got up and walked over to join Imperon. More people crowded into the restaurant, their boots clanking against the floor and scraping against the wood. Jalou arrived and tried to establish order as Gala started fixing meals for everyone. She swirled the wine in her glass and took a rather large gulp of it and crossed the room, pushing and shoving her way through the throngs of people, sweat beading upon her brow. Her young friend turned around at her presence and smiled.

“Are you okay dear?” Izby asked.

“You seemed preoccupied so I thought I would mingle.”

Izby nodded and returned to her corner, the amount of energy in the room building as more people entered it. More irritated travelers, grouchy with empty stomachs, weary muscles. Tension building and becoming palpable. She wanted to release coolness into her system, but instead the rune itch until she couldn't stand it any longer and she raked her nails over it through her robes. The pressure of all the energy collecting and colliding and Izby sat there drowning in it, absorbing, but unable to adequately release it.

An elf sat across from Izby and smiled and greeted her. Immediately, Izby stopped scratching herself and smiled at seeing a friendly face. Especially with the banter between her former lover and her former lover's new lover continued its rainbow and unicorns tone that stoked the fires of Izby frustration. The elf asked about them and Izby explained the relationship dynamics, trying to sound as friendly about the subject as possible and struggling to not let bitterness seep into her tone, but failing.

Then it happened. A cat walked into the bar and placed an order. The tension in the room doubled, as Jalou threatened to throw the cat out thinking it was the one that was banned from the restaurant: Broodin. Then it tripled as a friend to the cat came to its defense. Accusations flew through the air as daggers and swords clashing and energy radiated from each person as they prepared themselves for the inevitable clash. The energy needed a place to go and it was not siphoning out the room through the door or the cracks in the wood paneling fast enough. Izby began its sponge. Soaking up every drop of it like it were foul smell of the floor after sailors on leave binged and fought, bleeding and puking over every square inch of the facility. She couldn't hide it any more and scratched desperately at the rune, sweat beading on her brow.

She pulled the sleeve up and revealed the rune, burning against her flesh, smoke curling from the skin where the energy was siphoning away from her at what seemed like an alarmingly slow rate. Izby sniffed as she scratched and cringe. Her armed smelled of sulfur fire and arcane crackling. The fight with the cat broke out as it jumped around the place evading Jalou's capture. The tension ratcheted up another level and Izby audibly groaned. The elf across from looked at her.

“You okay there Bee?”

“No, all these damned people wanting to fight. Too much tension. Cannot handle it much longer. Need to leave.”

Gala was yelling now. The whole place was a roar and Izby could barely hear what was being said. She notice Mithara arrive out of the corner of her eye, but couldn't place whether that was important or not. The pressure in her mind felt like a slow cranking vice. One twist every ten seconds. Squeeze with no release. The pain intensifying. She was now torn whether to scratch at the rune or claw at her ears and eyes. Anything to relieve the intense pressure she felt upon.

“Talk to me Bee. How can I help you?”

“I need it off. I need to get this rune off. I need people to shut up. I need to leave.”

And Jalou finally connected a blow with the cat. The tension exploded. Izby screamed.

“AND I NEED TO REMOVE THIS FORSAKEN RUNE!”

A crack reverberated through the restaurant as everyone stopped to turn and stare at her. Wood splintering around her hand where she had struck it. She slumped in her chair, tears welling in her eyes as they blurred with pain. Tension in the room, tension in her heart, tension in her skin, and tension in the energy all conspiring to pull her apart. Then the whispering started.

She heard Imperon first, “Nyuula, has Izby been this way much of late.”

And Mithara's comment, “she was acting odd on Monday as well.”

Her body shivered as she clutched her hand to her stomach, every pair of eyes on her. Some with more pain in them than others. The elf draped Izby's good arm over her shoulder and lifted her to her feet. Walking, the two of them out the door. Then she heard the dagger slice through her heart, a whisper amongst the lion's roar of the other comments.

“No Izby, not her."

((Thank you everyone who came to Tavern Night and helped contribute in someone to this segment even if they weren't aware they were doing so. I greatly appreciate it.))

That was a fun night. After all, it's not a proper party until the swords come out!

Omg Noola, you can't just talk about Lord Pimperon whipping out his sword like that!!!

The air stank of salt and dead fish, but the smell was comforting. It was home. Izby sat on the rocks above the waterfall overlooking the Bay, rubbing her left arm. The rune glowed bright still trying to siphon away the excess energy and not keeping the pace. The magical crackling of expelled energy smelling of lightning amongst the other smells familiar to her. It itched and needed to come off. Nyuula stood by her side and others would be arriving soon to assist.

“Can you please turn your head?”

“What are you doing child?”

The woman rummaged through her bags and pulled out a different set of robes, a helm, and pauldrons. The blue color familiar to Izby and she peered at Nyuula twirled her finger around imploring Izby to face back to the sea.

“If we're going to remove that, there is going to be some excess energy explosions. I simply want to be prepared for it.”

The sound of robes slipping off shoulders and landing at the feet with a soft thud sounded over the waterfall for Izby. She ventured a quick glance and drank in the image of the Draenei's body, even if it was a bit pale from being in the lab more than out. It looked soft and appealing with curves designed to grip it.

“Izby...”

Snapped from her admiration, she turned to face out over the bay again and breathed deep. The breath held in her lungs for a slow ten count before she exhaled. Being calm would be a requirement for her to work the magics necessary to unravel the rune, so she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing until she heard the clatter of a few more bodies around them.

Standing, she nodded thanks to each Elf and Draenei present to assist in this procedure. None of them wore armor, apparently everyone simply came from the bar to assist and didn't bother to change as Nyuula had.

“The rune is a bit crude and simplistic. It is a modified dampening rune. I will extrapolate it up so that we can see the entire process and look for the beginning and end strands. Once I have located the necessary points of weakness, Nyuula will pull upon them. A imagine an energy spike will be unleashed amongst all involved. With the number of bodies here, it shouldn't cause any harmful effects, but it will likely hurt. When I prodded the rune previously, it appeared there are two, so prepared for that as well. If there are no questions, please gather around and make sure you touch the person next to you so we can properly distribute the energy.”

With that, as everyone shuffled into place, Izby pulled the rune up off her arm and increased its size so that she could better look at the runes that made up this one particular rune. The magic glowed a bright lilac color as she poked and prodded at the rune, exploring all the nooks and crevices of her three dimensional representation of the form upon her forearm. It was a technique Izby had pioneered when working on unraveling the enchantments on various relics to destroy them and she found it even more useful when working on magic left behind by another.

Satisfied that there were only the two points, she highlighted them for Nyuula and asked everyone to brace themselves. Nyuula murmured a few words of prayer to the Naaru and then tugged on the highlighted strand. The built up energy exploded and knocked everyone back a step. Even the most stout of warriors shuffled and offered an “Oof.”

“How delightfully fascinating?”

Izby glanced up from her position, knees buckled, and tried to offer the scientist a smile, but barely managed to upright herself and maintain her enhancements to the rune making it easier to work upon. The rune now had broken tendrils of enchantment spreading out from it dissipating into the air. She highlighted the second point for Nyuula when everyone was back in place and had caught their wind. The resulting explosion was even larger than the first. Everyone faltered again except the one person smart enough to wear armor. Izby dropped to her knees and immediately clutched at her chest.

“You okay Bee?”

Air. There was no air. Her lungs wouldn't fill with the salty acridness of home. She glanced up at everyone and back down to her arm, eyes widening with panic. Her claws reached for her mouth and she felt nothing covering her mouth, but still she clawed. She tried to inhale. The passages blocked. No air came. Suffocating.

“Bee?”

The dirt the spread from her collapsed body as it hit the rock did nothing to help matters and Izby writhed on the stone. Panic sending her body into shock. Fingers clawing at her throat. No air, how did she tell them she had no air. The periphery blackened with the flapping wings of wasps. A buzzing noise drowning out the cries of the others.

Someone rolled her over and slapped her on the back between the shoulders. She coughed and swallowed. Another slap and she choked out another cough. A wisp of magic billowed from her lips and Izby latched onto it to maintain her consciousness.

Words of every unraveling spell she knew that made enchantments crumble to dust ran through her mind as she tried to undo it. Another slap. Izby spit up and sputtered. Vapor of the disintegrating spell curling passed her horns as she gasped. Air. Sweet delicious air.

She rolled onto her back and laid there, sucking in deep and slowing her breathing, regaining control on her function. Eyes closed. And passed out from the exertion.

((Thanks you two sweethearts.))

((Please don't stop writing, this is wonderful and I am utterly caught up in it! <3))

(( It is my intention too Catroo. However, events that have transpired in the last few days have made me kibosh what I had written to watch these events play out a little more before I start writing again. I need to see how things setup. ))

When teeth grind, there is a reverberation through the skull which amplifies the sound and feel of chewing. It intensifies the experience and it is the only thing Izby can think of as she sits at the table opposite her ex and her new partner. Her own partner was at home asleep after having extracted energies from Izby to test for corruption.

Words swung from everyone's lips as barbed cudgels. Everyone except Gala. She was the only party keeping her calm and cool and Izby felt her own inner demons crawling across her skin. Their skittering claws pricking the flesh and injecting their envious venom. Others tickles her nerves with their heated hatred. All of the stimulation amplified by the burning fires deep within her inner core. The inferno raged like a forest aflame. The abundant smell of smoke flooded her nostrils. The crackling noise of trees crumbling echoed in her ears.

She attempted to force herself to be calm. Her knuckles were piercingly tight, whitening her knuckles to a lilac, as she clenched her fists. The taste of iron and bile filled her mouth as she bit her tongue. Cool frost trickled into her veins, but the roar of the fire was too great. It needed to be unleashed. If she still had the rune on her left forearm, she would be scratching her skin raw trying to unleash the energy so it didn't build up.

What most people never think about when they are acting is the connection between emotions and the magics they wield. Shamans often talk about how fire is representative of anger, fury, passion, and creativity. They speak of how fire is fickle and demanding. It does not appreciate being subjugated and often needs to be unleashed in carefully controlled doses to keep it satiated. When a speaker with the elements sets fire to a forest, it is to help alleviate the destructive tendencies of fire while helping to eradicate the sick elements of the forest that could infect the rest of it. Fire is meant to be kept on a short leash lest it be loosed and a fire into a smithy's catches the neighboring buildings aflame and turns a district of the city into a prison of smoke and ash.

She didn't even know what she was doing anymore because rage filled her every fiber and she looked at Jalou with hatred in her eyes when she spoke.

“I will burn you from the inside out so you can hear yourself screaming. I will burn you and nothing will prevent this but me.”

Fangs showed as she spoke.

“ISABELLA!”

The use of her full name broke her out her trance as she jolted upright and turned to Gala to watch her pull her hood up over her face, clearly disappointed in her. Izby slumped back in her chair, the shame smothered the fury like water suffocating fire.

It happened again. The tension in the room between the four women boiled quickly and tinted the energy in the room. Like all magi, Izby tapped into the energy of the world in order to perform her magics. Most magi utilized the ley lines and arcane powers floating through the world, manipulating them to their uses. Unlike others though, she could not stop the type of energy she absorbed. Her valve was broken and that was the source of her problem.

Or maybe she'd just lost it. Gone crazy like other magi before her.

The eredar had a long history of never allowing the magic to corrupt them prior to the arrival of Sargeras, but that didn't mean it never happened. Did it?

“I've made up my mind,” Jalou said with the smug smile of someone knowing they were going to cause problems and nothing could stop them. Then she got up and left.

“Jal...” Gala stood, but didn't follow her right away.

“I am sorry chala.”

“Don't be Izby. We'll go through the unbinding so you are no longer my chala. Just let me know when it is.”

Izby nodded as the woman walked away from her, rubbing the skin between her thumb and index finger. Terrified of herself.

The bar noise had died down. Most of the patrons ate themselves into suffering or drank themselves into stupidity then left. Some remained slumped over the table, drool running down their cheeks, and onto the table. Those patrons the goblins would handle, removing them and their coin. Never pass out in a goblin owned town.

Izby fidgeted in her seat and pulled at the folds in her robes until they laid perfectly across her body without any creases. She didn't know how to take the news Gala just gave her. The words went into one ear and came died there. Her mind couldn't process them.

Jalou had runaway, pissed.

Should she be worried that she'd visit violence upon them? Would she remain removed from the situation until it had resolved itself? Gala seemed to think that she may be gone forever. Was that worth it? Her past chala being miserable to satisfy Izby by undergoing the unbinding. Was that worth it? Too many variables, Izby couldn't control them all and that bothered her.

The most important of which was what she would have to give up as part of the unbinding. Being with Gala may have had some negative effects on her person, but it did have one very visible positive. Control. Her use of ice wasn't a new tool, but the level of her dexterity was. She didn't know how to tell Nyuula that she was going to have to give that up. She would be a raging inferno and a howling blizzard.

Shivers ran through her body as Gala stood and left, Nyuula saying something as well. Something about following, but Izby felt cold. Religiously cold.

She stood with her goose bumps and followed.

((Sorry for the delay, school has been very active so my time has been shortened significantly. I'll be posting the next bit in a little while. I have to finish working on it, but I needed to get the transition piece up first.))

The Exodar vibrated with energy. The smell of electricity hung in the air along with the taste. It made the hairs on the back of Izby's neck stand a little as she navigated her way past the siphoning crystals she stayed in the last time she suffered arcane poisoning. The memories of her fight with her commander flooded through her senses as passed by them. She could smell his burning hair and his freezer burnt skin. She could hear his joints groan and his teeth chatter as she bent over and kissed his forehead with her burning touch. Her laugh reverberating through the halls as he screamed followed by the very brief, "I quit," before she returned home to Gala.

As quick as the memories were upon her, they dissipated as the calming light reflecting off the pools of water came into view. New memories took her. Memories of her sitting upon her bed with Gala laid before her running a fever and Izby inable to adequately express her frustrations verbally. Finding her embrace of Common wasn't significant enough to get her out of trouble. Lia had ripped into her about it as well. She resolved to master the language while she cared for her lover and spent the better part of three days without rest, mastering the complexities of the language. Speaking with all patrons and goblins and fellow guild members until she was comfortable. By the time her lover came to, Izby's accent was gone and her broken Common was eradicated like vermin. "I hungry" had become "I am hungry and could eat an entire Elekk in a single sitting, if they were tasty creatures." Gala laughed when she heard Izby speak. Citing it as a loss of what made her unique but also what made her special. Izby vowed she'd never forget that.

She exhaled deeply as she crossed the crystal bridge, clear as glass.

Izby stood waiting, flexing her hands and letting her knuckles pop. She again exhaled deeply. This was like stepping into the arena to fight.

Except not.

It was worse.

The others approached as a group. Nyuula glided with her scientific clumsiness. Gala stepped lightly, as if her shadow was carrying her above the ground. Kix waddled as was typical amongst gnomes. Others showed up in the shadows and along the edges. Ketyru smiled and waved as she stood in the middle, remaining somewhat neutral in the proceedings. Although Izby she swore she saw Ketyru inch towards the group who showed up in support of herself.

Standing facing each other, but two arm's lengths away, Izby exhaled deeply and bracing herself for what was about to be undone. The words Nyuula spoke to everyone very familiar to herself as she prepared for the ritual.

"A binding requires that each party give a part of themselves to the other, combining to become one. Some think it is the physical manifestation of the soul intertwining. "

There was no thought to it for Izby. It was true to her. Her first binding exploded her passion. Made it dangerous. The approval rigged by her commander, because it would make her husband a better fighter for his army against the Orcs. He didn't think of her at all.

"To unbind a couple, this must be unraveled. For the one submitting, it will be painful. That is the price to be paid for having asked another to bind. A hole is left and it takes time to heal from the change and time to heal from the physical weakening. A time that cannot be manipulated with magic."

That pain existed even if they didn't unbind. Death caused a similar hole. Izby wondered if that was why she latched onto affection so easily. Willingly throwing herself from one relationship to another.

"Something must be sacrificed at the choosing of the party submitting to the ritual for it to close, but it must begin with the sacrifice of the other. Gala, what do you give to power the magics of this ritual?"

Izby feigned a smile as stepped forward and raised her hands into the air, her shadow flickering behind her as she did so, stepping away.

"I give my memories."

A frown played across her lips as a mist-like shroud wrapped itself around the half-elf. The memories pulled from her mind, falling about her feet, and lifting into runic stone beside them. Each one appeared to be dust or vapor as they pulled and spilled, like cotton stretched and then strewn. Izby could make out their faces as they twisted and screamed at her. She gritted her teeth as she heard their voices crying out to her.

Be strong.

Sweat had formed on Gala's brow and the vapor wrapping around her started to shimmer until Izby was looking into her reflection. A past version of herself. When her hair was more vibrant in color and not discolored by the time she spent lost in time.

Tears formed in her eyes and she clenched her fists as she watched. Each second, a tiny dagger hurled itself at her chest and struck. Leaving her gasping as the witness. She closed her eyes.

"Chala... chala?"

She glanced around and saw that Nyuula was looking at her. The vapors and mists were gone. The rune beside them glowed faintly. Nyuula's voice came as barely a whisper as she noticed everyone else's eyes upon her.

"Are you okay? We can stop."

"No, it is fine. This needs to be finished."

Nyuula nodded her head and spoke.

"What do you sacrifice chala?"

Izby hesitated before responding, "I give up the control over frost that I learnt while with Gala."

The words struck home for a few as they registered what Izby had intimated. Nyuula and Gala's faces registered shock briefly before resignation to the decision. They couldn't be reversed anyway at this point. Izby had voiced the desire and the ritual took what was spoken.

Her skin began to burn and then freeze as if her body were at war. She wanted to scratch at the irritation but her body was frozen in this war within itself. Paralyzed. Vapor again arose, but this time from her own skin and Izby began to writhe in seizure. Her mouth opened to scream as the bonds of cool control began to break. Then, like a spark catching something tangible to burn, she ignited.

The scream that came from her was muffled and suffocated with smoke as it billowed out of her mouth. Her organs were hot. White hot. Coated in blisters and bursting. Her muscles were frozen and cold. Cold to the point of burning. To the pain was a tingling sensation would be an understatement, it was being skinned alive and dumped into salt. It was holding your hand to a stove and never removing it until the flesh melted.

It was intense and she couldn't scream. Her eyes rolled in her sockets as the vapor faded into the runes upon the ritual stone, finalizing the ritual. She looked upon the others. Worry etched upon their faces, not sure if they should act or not.

And that was when she felt the shadowy claws pierce her mind, scooping handfuls of memories out of her mind like they were ice cream. She convulsed inside her own skin as she watched Gala downcast and being tended to by Kix, her shadow no where to be seen. Tears and her tongue lolled in her mouth.

She was burning. She was freezing. And now she was being stabbed and no one noticed that this was all wrong. No one noticed that her position was inhuman or the shadow at her back tearing away at her mind. No one noticed because she was still standing whereas Gala was not.

Izby slumped in her own skin, screaming silently until the pain took her. Only the single word from Nyuula made it into her consciousness before she went under into the black sleep the shadow put her in. A sleep brought on by a kiss and almost interrupted by a single word.

"Chala..."

((Thanks to everyone who has read to this point. Now to get back to the homework.))

((Hooboy, I've no idea why I'm bothering to participate with the likes of your writing. I present my meager attempt to join in. Please for give my...horrific grammar and spelling))

Nyuula sat beside Izby as she rested after the ritual. She had brought her Chaala to a private balcony room, in the traders tier. The air felt electric with magic, she knew it was charged particles due to the ionization of the localized atmosphere as a result of the magical crystals that dotted the former ship. Nyuula couldn't help but feel it was because of how worried she felt. Such a foolish thought.

She leaned over and laid a hand on her lovers forehead, frowning as she felt the heat of Izby's fever. "Hmm, two waring sides, and one just laid down their arms." She mused to herself, pouring water into a bowl, she soaked a cloth in it and laid it upon Izby's brow. "Please Chaala, use the tools I gave you, you can do it" She pleaded to the unconscious woman. It was difficult for Nyuula to watch the woman she loved to be in such agony, such extreme pain. Academically, the idea of a mage having such powerful, unrestrained energies, and having them not instantly destroy the user? It was fascinating. But to see Izby suffering like this? It was hard to slide down the mask of clinical observation that she usually found so easy to do. The shield that allowed her to view this horrific world dispassionatly. To hold herself in check.

Nyuula stood up, walking over to a table to fetch some fruit, she ate trying to shake off the exhaustion she felt. It'd been 2 days since the ritual. Izby had been tossing and turning in a feverish sleep. Nyuula's thoughts kept drifting back to that event, to Izby's sacrifice. Why did she do that!? It made no sense, it's so...illogical! Nyuula shook slightly with anger. Ever since the other day she'd been finding it harder and harder to control those emotional outbursts. Shaken her head, she looked down to see that she had crushed the fruit in her hand. Nyuula laughed softly, and nearly felt herself break down into sobs. Grabbing a napkin she cleaned her hand off, taking deep breaths to regain control. Control. Her greatest friend, that which she had so eagerly given to her Chaala...