163 – Meanwhile….

Meanwhile….

She waits by the pool. Other, less patient, have moved on. They abuse the powers gifted to them. They bicker, conquer, and play their little games as if they still lived. They forgot there is a purpose for power.

They forgot the promises they made.

Sometimes she believes they never had any intention of keeping their word in the first place.

So she sits by the pool. Let the others believe she is wasting her time. She knows there is wisdom in the still waters of the Well of Urd. Wisdom for those who are patient.

And she has waited for so long.

“All my siblings are Glasswalkers. Why shouldn’t I be one too?” She examines the echo. Love. Guilt. She flicks the fragment back into the void. These things will not do.

“The angle of the sun hits the curve of the planet….” Nonsense. Some days all she find is nonsense. Somedays test her patience and she wonders why she bothers. The temptation to join her unfaithful brothers and sister is strong. But she will endure. She has not forgotten her promises.

Other days she is entranced by the echoes in the pool. She loses weeks of time staring into the pool, watching the infinite possibilities of eternity pass before her eyes.

“Sometimes goodbye is a second chance.” She snatches the fragment out of the pool. Blessed by the Neverborn she may be, her fingers still burn with the cold of the void.

Such a fragile thing, hope. Hope from another world. Hope from another time. And hope, like everything else, dies.

Except her Neverborn masters. But if she succeeds, they too will find the peace of true death.

She rises from her seat by the pool. Stiff from sitting for so long, she limps over to her collection. The translucent orb shimmers like an oil slick on water. She holds up the fragment to the orb. Attracted by the rest of her collection, the fragment reaches cobweb thin tendrils out and is absorbed.

She caressed the orb with chilled fingers. The orb accepts the caress and swirls with the knowledge she has collected over the past millennium.

“Soon,” The Dowager of the Irreverent Vulgate in Unrent Veils purrs. “Soon, we will find death and you will suffer no more.”

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