What if she spent the rest of her time unable to decide and so left her lover waiting?
Delyth swallowed past the pain in her throat, aggravated by her recent tears. Then, slowly, agonizingly, she turned…
To see Alphonse standing in the cradle formed by two hills, her hair golden in the gentle light of this place and styled just as Delyth had done on the night the healer died, so that it hung mostly loose but for a tiara of braided locks about her temples. Her only ornament was a red flower tucked behind one ear that made her eyes even brighter. She wore a simple dress—the brown of a fawn’s coat but for the delicately embroidered bluebirds at her wrists and collar.
She looked whole, the hollows of her cheeks filled in, the circles beneath her eyes erased. Where she had been a sickly pale, she was now lightly tanned. Pinks and peaches touched her lips, her cheekbones. She stood and moved easily, no longer weighed down by another’s soul.
Delyth could not breathe for fear of losing the image, the vision of her lover, as healthy as she’d ever wished the healer could be. “Aderyn bak…” the words came as a whisper.
Fflur ran up to Alphonse, not noticing that the healer had frozen, amber eyes wide. She offered Alphonse her red flowers, and after a moment, the healer blinked, looking down to take the stems. “Your mama is looking for you.”
“But I told my new friend that I would help her find someone…”
“Don’t worry, Fflur. I’ll help her.” Alphonse’s fingers brushed the braids away from Fflur’s shoulder, gripping one reassuringly.
The little girl seemed conflicted with this idea and turned back to Delyth. “Will you be alright?” Her tone was worried, perhaps finally realizing that the warrior was stone-still.
“I don’t know, bak un. I am so happy now that I may never recover, but your friend there is a healer, so you leave me in good hands.” She swallowed hard, fighting back more tears. Tears of joy and loss and hope.
“It’s alright, Fflur. I’ll help her,” Alphonse repeated, and finally, the little girl seemed convinced. She wrapped Delyth’s legs in a brief hug, then scampered off.
Alphonse watched as the little girl disappeared and then turned to face Delyth, hands clasping before herself. Bright eyes took in every line and blemish, bruise and scratch on Delyth’s body. Her mouth quivered, and Alphonse let out a shaky breath. “Are you… dead?”
“No.” Delyth took a step forward, closing the distance between them. “Aryus let me in, but I’ll have to leave soon.”
Relief flooded Alphonse’s features, and she held out one palm. “Soon?”
The warrior stepped forward again, cupping Alphonse’s small, soft hand in one of her larger, calloused ones. She leaned down and pressed a kiss there, between the life and love lines on the healer’s palm. “Yes. I can’t tell time here, but soon. You can come back with me if you want.”
Delyth held her breath. This was a beautiful place, a gentle place. It seemed a cruel thing to ask Alphonse back into the dirt and violence of life. Perhaps it was even selfish. And yet, she could not make herself give up the hope that she might live in the same world as the little healer once more.
Alphonse’s gaze stayed fixed on Delyth’s face as she spoke but shifted to the beautiful fields around them. The flowers, the golden forest off in the distance. This place was perfect.
Slowly the healer turned her hand over, interlinking her fingers with Delyth’s. “Let’s go.”
Delyth released a breath of mixed joy and relief so great that she felt it would swamp her, carry her heart right from her bruised chest. She pulled Alphonse to her at last and held the healer as the gold of this world faded to night.
⥣ ⥣ ⥣
Delyth opened her eyes to the same bit of alley that she had stood in before, the windows still lit around her, the full moon still high in the sky. Her lips were twisted in a smile, her heart warm, but Alphonse was no longer in her arms. Perhaps, when Aryus had brought them back, they had done it separately or one at a time. She looked around, back down the street, into other side streets and between buildings. “Alphonse? Allee, where are you?”
Still, she was alone.
Had it been a trick? She would expect it of Va’al or Enyo, but not Aryus…
Was she to be alone, after all that?
Delyth closed her eyes, pressed her hands to her face, tried to convince herself to breathe. She had done what Aryus asked, searched the Realm of the Dead, and found what was lost to her. Had she taken too long after all? Had she failed the test?
Then, there came the sound of wind amongst foliage, though there were no trees or bushes in this part of Caerthleon. She looked and found, lit by the moonlight, a swirl of soft, blush petals coiling against the cobblestones. Even as she watched, the spinning mass grew in height and thickness until there stood a cylinder, just a head shorter than Delyth’s height. One by one, the petals began to fall away, and then it was not flowers at all, but Alphonse standing there, whole and beautiful and completely naked in the cold, snow-slushed streets of Caerthleon.
She closed the distance between them in two steps, wrapping her arms around Delyth’s waist. Soft hands brushed against the warrior's throat, and another came to move over her temple. “What have you done to yourself? Oh, look at these burns…”
Green healing light, gentle and warm, radiated outward, bathing the dirty street in its glow. The swelling in her throat eased, and the pain followed it. She could breathe without the protest of her broken ribs. And Alphonse was there, worry coloring her familiar eyes and a small smile tucked into her lips.
Alphonse.
As Delyth stared, Alphonse lifted to
