Jamie is at the plains, fighting in the alliance on behalf of their home, and so Beyza does not call him to her as she slips into the deepest parts of the forest at dusk. It is tempting to check in on him, a simple gentle caress of her consciousness against his, but she does not want to risk distracting him. The alliance is not something she fully understands, but then what does Beyza need to gain from battling that she has not had since birth?
There is someone following her. A young foal, born out of season and sick. Very sick. They drift along now, free of pain, trailing after the white mare as she seeks solitude. This is not a prize she will leave on the borders of Tephra. It occurs to her, briefly, that she could heal this foal just as she could have healed the ancient stallion before.
But meddling in the affairs of death had gotten her into enough trouble.
So strong is her belief in The Reaper, in the vision of a world of darkness where he can be everything he is meant to be, she thinks it’s possible for her to offer assistance. Even if she cannot check to see if he senses it or not, this belief fills her with such surety that the timing of this sacrifice will give him a surge in energy. Perhaps even revitalize him at a critical time in a battle.
They are so deep into the forest now there is little sunlight, and what light there is comes from Beyza’s gentle glow. It shimmers across the protruding bones of the patchwork filly who is now laid down carefully onto a bed of soft moss and leaves.
Watching the girl lay there, breathing slow even breaths that are magically assisted, there is a stirring somewhere deep within Beyza’s core. She has not yet felt the desire to be a mother - but she thinks she can understand why someone would find it appealing.
She stands close for this one, her muzzle brushing against a small misshapen cheek. In the last moments, she bids the trees above them to move just slightly, just enough to allow sunlight to touch this patch of floor that has known so little of it. For the girl to feel warmth in those last moments, during that last sighing breath, before she is gone.
Beyza does not have the heart to pierce this child with her thorns, to leave her on display. As righteous and sure as she had felt last time, this sacrifice leaves her feeling weak in a way she does not truly understand.
It’s right, she knows it is. She needed to do this and she knows that the filly is no longer suffering.
But why, as the trees shift back to their original position and Beyza is left in the darkness, does her heart feel a little more broken than it did before?
