They abandoned her. Their hearts led them astray, guiding them far from Cerva, and they flourished while she wilted. It had been the first time she had nestled into a place so comfortably and where she could rest her head. Within just a few weeks’ time the Gates had captured her heart and had woven binding threads into her soul. That’s why she wouldn’t – couldn’t – follow the others when they retreated to the horizon. They didn’t say goodbye; they simply left.
It has been weeks, maybe months, and in that time Beqanna has shifted and consumed itself. The Gates is no longer here; Cerva remained in its embrace even as the world shook, but when she opened her eyes she was greeted by something new. Fear and heartache gripped her, but she survived. Loneliness clouded her ambitions to understand this revolution, but it has since cleared. Devov lit the fire in her dark world. He opened her heart again after it had wilted and crumbled into pieces. Now, she doesn’t want to be without him. He was there when no one else was.
Their bodies are pressed closely to one another fighting off the wintery gusts when Magnus’ voice bellows over the crowds. Cerva recognizes it immediately and flinches when she hears her name. Slowly, her eyes fall to Devov and a frown creases her pretty face. When everything initially happened, when everything crashed down, she only wanted to be reassured by those she knew, but the solitude has fermented bitterness. It has burrowed deep inside her and is surfacing now as she looks up to see Magnus closing the distance between them. He is relieved to see her; the breathlessness in his voice admits that he has been traveling, but even then Cerva hardly softens. ”Hello, Magnus,” she replies tersely as she straightens herself and searches his eyes. ”Yes, I’m safe,” she lies because in reality she doesn’t feel safe. She’s an outcast, forsaken to live in this new meadow with a constant worry for predators and for everything that bumps in the night. Cerva needs a home, but she doesn’t say this. She hasn’t slept well as she has been vigilant day and night.
The tension in the air is almost choking and so she glances down fleetingly. ”This is Devov,” she didn’t realize that she had been holding her breath, ”my son.” She expects the searching stares across her slender torso. Was she ever pregnant, they wonder, but Cerva is stronger than those temptations. ”He found me.” Her stony face falters as she grins and leans closer to the boy.
Cerva