It's not that she is weary. It's more that she is impossibly energetic, that she dances from point to point like lightning. Perhaps it has never been in her nature to be pinned down. Perhaps it has always been in her nature to move on. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
She stands alone in the silence when she feels it. The tickle of life, the slip and pop of magic, of something happening that, by rights, should not. Curious, she takes herself there, to that moment of reawakening.
And in that moment, she knows what she must do.
It is rare for Camrynn to be reflective. It is even more rare for Camrynn to be deferential. And it is virtually unheard of for her to set aside her pride. And yet now, something greater than all of that compels the black mare. Something greater even than herself – an oath she swore so many years ago, in a land beyond lands, underneath the shifting sands of the Desert. It was an oath to serve it at all costs, sworn to one of the few powers in Beqanna undisputedly more powerful than she herself could ever dream of being. And it is this oath, this unbreakable promise, that binds her now.
She doesn't speak, because she knows that the power she needs know knows everything, spoken or unspoken. She debates reaching out to them, the ones scattered through Beqanna whom she has touched. She feels in her bones, somehow, that what she is about to do could be an undoing of sorts. Not a permanent one – because nothing is truly a permanent undoing, not to her – but a miniature undoing. She feels in her bones that something dramatic will shift now, and she is not sure it will be for the better.
At least, not for her.
She closes her eyes for a moment, and when she opens them again she finds herself in that familiar-unfamiliar underground complex. The gods of the Desert are arrayed before her, judging her silently from their dias. There is brightly colored Isis, mother of all, her counterpart Osiris, their herald Thoth – they're all here, called silently by the magic mare. But she does not propose to command them. Instead she sinks to her knees without a word. The ground is cold on her legs, but she does not warm herself. She wouldn't dare to use her magic here.
"I've come to beg a boon." she says, and there is no artifice to her, not here. There is velvet in her voice, but no more than any mortal mare could claim. Her eyes are fixed on the ground. She does not dare to look up, does not dare to look them in the eyes. Not now.
But she takes their silence as encouragement to continue.
"I made an oath, to serve the Deserts first and forever." she mumbles into the ground. "And I think that I can now best keep it…" she pauses "By breaking it." She dares to look at them now, out of the corner of her eyes. They are like stone, like statues, and she wonders for a moment if that is their natural form. She blinks.
"There is another…." she says, still not quite able to make herself form the words "more worthy than I", although in her heart she knows it is true. "Vanquish. He's come back from the dead. Yael has brought him." She says it, although she knows that they already know it to be true. She swallows hard, acutely aware of how the silence drags, acutely aware of these eternal beings, uncharacteristically uncomfortable with the power of their gaze on her uncharacteristically vulnerable self.
"I would ask you….release me from my oath, release Pevensie and myself from the throne, and let him rule the Deserts instead."
It will be better, she knows it in her bones and in her heart. And yet the taste of failure is bitter and acrid in her mouth. This isn't her – she isn't one to give up, she isn't one to admit defeat, and she's rarely one to step aside in favor of someone else. But this is another dimension, another side of the world, and in this place she is not all powerful. In this place, she stands in the presence of the gods.
It could be minutes or hours, but finally the goddess Isis stands from her adorned throne. When she speaks, the words could be in Camrynn's mind, or could be spoken aloud. In this place, it doesn't matter. "We release you from the throne." the tone is cold, but not angry. "But we do judge that you have not fulfilled your oath." At this, Camrynn cannot help it – she looks up at the assembled gods. "You will fulfill the terms, and you will serve the Deserts, until such time as we release you." Chastised by radiant Isis, even Camrynn is humbled.
"We will welcome Vanquish to our Deserts." the queen of the gods is almost smiling. She returns to her throne. "You will summon him. And then we will have you, until you've served your term." and with that, the woman sits.
A cold like death begins to creep toward Camrynn, but the black magician knows better than to resist. She knew what she was getting herself into when she'd made the oath, she'd known how serious it could be – at least it isn't taking her magic, of that she is certain – and for that she is grateful.
"Vanquish. Yael." she calls out to them with her mind, gently, so gently, the voice entirely unlike yours. "Vanquish, the Deserts is yours." she chuckles a bit, like one drifting off into sleep. "I think perhaps, it always has been." She sighs, and wonders whether they can hear it too. "Rule it well. I know you will."
It is done. The blackness creeps up, like a cold blanket, but not without its comfort. The gods are leaving, processing out of the hall. She wonders where she is, but doesn't dare probe with her magic. "Yael…" she sighs. "I wish…" she's tired, so tired.
And with a flutter like butterfly wings, so delicate, she flies from Yael's mind and finds the mind of the only other that she had truly cared about. "Eight…" what must she sound like, her voice husky with sleep, velvety, delicate? "I…."
And then the cold is unbearable and soothing, and the slumber is complete.
Camrynn endures, somewhere beneath the Deserts, enveloped into the essence of its being. All those who enjoyed any capacities granted by her will see them disappear as though scattering into the wind.
The black mare fades into somethingness, and somewhere far above her, a new day dawns for the Desert – a day with a new king, a new hope, and a willing-unwilling talisman buried deep beneath the sands.
@[Amandalynn] @[Sarah]
Vanq and Yael get first crack
I am literally the worst. But holy guacamole was this overdue. Cam's not dead, and will undoubtedly be back Someday™. But since she's no longer in control of her own magic, unfortunately anyone to whom she gave a "gift" is gonna lose it
