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Specs refused to believe that she was gone. Not her. Had it been anyone but Elora, maybe he would have accepted it, but when he got the news that his best friend's soul was shattered, he couldn’t accept it. It never sat right with him. Technically, he had been told that the soul was simply separated, and separated does not mean destroyed; it just means that if he wanted a whole soul, he needed to go and get it. And get them, he would.
He spent years going through every book, speaking to every wizard and sorcerer that was in the afterlife, and doing research on soul-based magic. How to put one back together and how to pull the pieces together without damaging them. Though none of them had solid answers, he finally overheard a rumor that gave him a glimmer of answers. As well as the key to overcoming the obstacle that stood in his way. The obvious obstacle was the fact that he was still a soul bound to the afterlife he was in and wasn’t exactly free to jaunt across the multiverse on a whim. The other was the questions related to the soul that he still had no knowledge of, so he very much jumped on the opportunity to discuss it with Death themself.
See, what Specs had learned was that every couple hundred years or so, the embodiment of death from the Myanmar Multiverse visits the other afterlifes to see how they were ran, taking notes on how to improve their own. And as luck would have it, it was actually the year that they were visiting, which meant it was Specs’ opportunity that he needed to get all the knowledge he required.
Meeting with Deyanira, the name that death had given itself, wasn’t easy. Specs lost count on how many bribes and bets he won and favors he used to ensure a meeting, but he did it. Finally, he was standing before an actual embodiment of death that had unending knowledge. They were certainly otherworldly, with large wings resting down their backs in the color of darkness with matching hair and eyes that felt like they could literally see into your soul. Not wanting to waste the opportunity or precious time he had, Specs issued a challenge of riddles for Death. If he won, he would get a favor, and if he lost, well, there was nothing Deyanira would want, so nothing would be lost or gained.
Deyanira certainly seemed curious about the strange soul that was bold enough to challenge them to a game of riddles, and so they accepted, which was exactly what Specs was hoping. He knew that there was no way to win, but he didn’t want to win. No, what he wanted to do was make Deyanira interested enough in him to answer the questions regardless. If he did somehow win, he knew that it would make him seem like someone who didn’t need questions answered and was just there to boost his ego. So, as expected, though he did take the challenge seriously, Specs admitted defeat, and as planned, Deyanira allowed them the answers regardless.
Meeting with Deyanira privately, Specs explained the situation he found himself in, the tale of his friends sacrifice, how the soul was scattered across the multiverse by the various gods themselves, and how he just wanted to bring her home, home to her wife and her children. Where her family was. To Specs’ surprise, Deyanira seemed almost moved by the tale and agreed to help almost instantly, mentioning someone called Zenobious and how they would have done anything to help as well.
Deyanira answered every question Specs’ had, providing a detailed ritual to restore a broken soul and the components that would be needed. They also informed them to be incredibly careful when handling a shattered soul, especially the core, for if the core is lost, then there is no hope, and a soul without its core is nothing more than a lifeless doll. Finally, they provided Specs with a single dark black feather that they said would allow them the temporary ability to perform this quest, as souls on a quest are allowed access across the realms until the quest itself is accomplished, and Deyanira cleverly worded it that the quest would not be completed until the fully completed soul of Elora was bound and safe within the same afterlife of her family.
There, however, was one single condition that Deyanira had to place that Specs’ accepted without hesitation. The condition was that they had to travel alone and be as little involved with the mortal worlds as possible, because if his soul was damaged outside of his afterlife, there was a high chance he would be unable to return and potentially be lost within the void. Since Specs had already planned to go alone anyway, he wasn’t worried. The soul was that of his first mate, basically his sister and best friend. Though he cared for her wife and trusted her, Specs only trusted himself to be able to get the job done correctly.
That was how Specs found himself where he was now, standing before the massive weeping willow at the heart of Paradox Grove, where all of her suffering had started. Getting the other fragments had been fairly easy. He knew each of the islands well, even despite the changes that had occurred since his passing, so reaching the trees themselves was not difficult. Then, getting the fragments simply involved reaching his hand in and using his own aura to call out to her like a homing beacon of sorts, allowing him to carefully pull them back out and stow them away in an enchanted bag. However, he knew that the Grove was going to be different, and that was why he waited until it was the only one left, for within the heart of the Grove tree was where the core of her soul was being held.
He knew that if he had taken the core out first, there was the risk of it being damaged, but also the risk of it causing the other fragments of her soul to fade since it was connected to every single one. So the risk was not one he was willing to take, but there was also another reason, which was simply that he wasn’t sure what to expect.
He had been told that the core of ones soul was essentially their heart and mind as one. It was where a person's experiences, memories, and emotions were stored. So he wasn’t sure if this would be different from the rest, though he had a feeling it was. As he stood before the massive Willow, trying to build up the strength to pass in, he looked around to observe the grove.
It certainly was strange, seeing how much time had passed, and even though it had been well over a couple of millennia since her sacrifice, there were still scars from the battle scattered throughout the area. While looking, something caught his eye amidst the roots of the tree, and curiosity got the better of him. He moved to get a better look and stopped when he realized what he had seen was his own headstone, sitting among Avren’s and Emerald's, right below Elora’s. Seeing what was essentially his own grave was very off-putting, but he couldn’t help but notice how carefully preserved it was, which he was surprised by. Sure, the keepers took care of the stones to ensure that they were not damaged, but it was not uncommon to see occasional moss on many of the older stones.
Before he could linger longer on the curiosity, he heard some voices from behind, which caused Specs to hide, for the keepers of the grove were very well attuned to sensing spirits, and the last thing he needed was to be expelled before getting what he came for. He watched as two of the Doxies went to the stones with a bucket and brushes and overheard one of them ask.
“Why do we keep taking care of these stones? There are so many others in the grove itself that are a little worn; why do we work so hard to keep these preserved as we do?”
The elder keeper shook her head. “Because from a time long before you and I were born, the great guardian herself treasured the people of these headstones, and it was said that she spent extra time ensuring that they were clean and cared for. So in honor of her, we do the same.”
Hearing that, something seemed to ease inside of Specs. His concerns about what was awaiting him vanished because he knew that no matter what he would face, it was still Elora, the Elora who wore her heart on her sleeve and cared deeply for everyone she loved. Turning back to face the tree itself, he placed a hand on the trunk and whispered, “Hold on you sentimental old sap; I’m almost there.” Before walking forward.
As he thought, Specs found himself stepping into a strange space within the tree. It was almost like a pocket dimension, with a sky that was filled with stars, and covering the entire ground as far as the eye could see were thousands upon thousands of flowers that glittered like crystals, and sitting at the center (or at least what he assumed as the center) was a smaller weeping willow. There was also, trapped at the front and almost sticking out of the tree itself, a very familiar elven figure.
“ELORA!” Specs shouted, abandoning most of his caution to sprint to his friend's side. He didn’t care about the otherworldly presences that he felt; he didn’t care that he could feel whatever was watching him. All he cared about was getting to her and getting her out. Once he was finally close enough to truly take her in, he stopped with a wince.
Elora’s body was not what he expected it to be. Aside from the obvious thick branches that wrapped and twisted around her torso and limbs, her physical appearance was what really took him off guard. Her hair, which he had known was long, was undone and draped among the rest of the tree, the long reddish brown strands mixing with the vines, and among the hair were long lines of silver. Seeing the actual silver in her hair caused a sense of guilt to sink into Specs as the realization settled.
For there to be actual gray hairs in an elven archdruid, she would have had to lived until she was almost six, maybe seven thousand years old. Which made him realize how alone she had really been. Sure, there were many people on the islands, but at the same time, after being forced to watch generation after generation pass while remaining essentially the same, it would drive anyone to feel alone.
“Hang on, El.” Specs finally spoke, his eyes darting along the tree to see where the branches connected. “I’m going to get you out of here.” Finding one of the anchor spots near her legs, he reached down and pulled. It took a little bit of strength, but as the branch began to crack, there was a sudden rush of emotions that caught him off guard, and as the branch broke free, it became like a burning fire inside of his chest.
Hatred… What he was feeling was hatred. Specs was confused; sure, he was angry at the gods for making this seem like the only option she could take, but he had not reached a level of hatred, so to speak. As he stared at the branch, his mind racing, trying to make sense of it all, the face of the goddess that he had sold his memories to appeared in his mind. A memory began to show as he heard her voice say, “I will take them slowly. And you will watch.” As the memory faded, a voice that he had not heard in so long echoed in his mind.
“I will hate you until the end of time, Goddess of Fate.”
Specs was certainly surprised to hear such words in the voice of his friend. Since he had known her, Elora had never truly hated anyone that he was aware of. She was someone who chose forgiveness often, and though she disliked people, he did not think of her as even capable of hatred for a time. He began to wonder if the branches were representations of her memories, all of her memories, or perhaps just the ones that were influential on her life. So, to test this theory, he searched until he found another anchor besides the other leg. Taking a sturdy grip, he pulled again, hearing the cracking once more as it too broke loose.
In an almost whiplash-inducing manner, Specs was overcome by a feeling of extreme joy. It's warmth spread across his chest and to his mind, truly feeling like he was on cloud nine even though he was not. This time, as he tossed the branch off to the side, an image of a woman in a beautiful black wedding dress, flowers woven into her hair, and tears of joy on her face appeared in his mind. He knew who it was. It was Avren on the day that she and Elora got married. He recalled the day rather fondly himself. He had never seen Elora look as happy as she had on that day; the love she had for Avren was as clear as the sky in her eyes. Once more, Elora's voice echoed in his mind.
“I vow that I will love you until the end of time, until the end of the multiverse itself.”
Those had been part of the vow that Elora had spoken to Avren, and from what he had been told by Avren after she joined him in the afterlife, it was a vow that she had fulfilled until the final day of her life and beyond.
“Okay..” Specs muttered, rising to his feet to shake his hands as he prepared himself. “Every branch is a strong moment in her life, and while I can say I hope the rest of them are all really happy ones, I’m smart enough to know that that would be a huge lie.” He did his best to mentally prepare himself for whatever would come next, but as he broke away the branch that was connected to one of her arms, nothing could prepare him for the grief.
Like a tidal wave, grief so strong that it knocked Specs to his knees washed over him. His chest throbbed as if his very heart were breaking, and before he knew it, tears began to pour from his eyes and fall to the flowers beneath him. He tried to stop them, but no matter how much he tried, the tears wouldn’t stop. This puzzled him even more, because he knew that he was dealing with her emotions, but he didn’t think that he would make him cry. He wasn’t a huge crier, so he was not sure why he suddenly was now until the realization dawned on him. They were not his tears that he was crying; they were hers.
Every time she felt alone, every time she felt grief, fear, guilt—these were all of those tears. These were the tears that he had been there to wipe away, and thousands of times that he was not. As a sense of his own guilt began to break through the grief, his own words echoed in his mind.
“Keep them safe for me, okay, El?”
The last words that he had spoken to her when he was moments away from death. The words that created the promise that led her to the decision that caused all of this to happen. As the grief began to ease, his own anger started to rise and mix with the guilt as he grinded his teeth together, his fists curling and crushing some of the flowers on the ground. He had never been able to consider what his words would lead her to do; he had never been able to realize how being alone for so long would hurt her so much. The cost of the deal he made and that bitch of a goddess only returning his memories until his death bed were the reasons for that, and he hated it. He despised everything that she had to endure on her own, and he cursed that he wasn’t able to be there longer to give her some sort of solace.
He could not change the past. But Specs would be damned if he wasn’t going to change her future. Pushing himself to his feet once more, he wiped away the tears and took hold of the fourth anchor. Before the wood even began to crack, he could feel the searing pain begin to course through his arm, but he continued. Specs did not back away from the pain as he pulled, pulling as hard as he could to break the branch free.
As the fourth anchor broke and the searing pain shot through his heart like an arrow, he refused to let him knock it down; he refused to scream. He knew exactly what the pain was. It was the same pain that she felt and possibly still felt as her soul was ripped apart, a pain that she endured as she spoke her final words to keep the promise she made.
“I’m sorry, I won’t be able to see you again. Goodbye!”
If she could endure this pain for as long as she had, Specs told himself that he could withstand it for the short amount of time he would have to in order to get her out. Breathing heavily with a sharp glare, he eyed the final branch that was keeping her imprisoned. This one was coiled tightly around her torso and neck, keeping her head facing up and out of sight. The branches almost looked like a collar on her, and he had a feeling he knew exactly what remained. After everything that he had seen, there was only one moment left that had affected her so greatly that it had burrowed so deeply into her heart that nothing could remove it.
When Specs wrapped his arms around some loops in the wood and tried to pull, there was much more resistance than the previous four. As he pulled and pulled, using all his strength to try and break it away, a devilish laugh that caused his blood to boil echoed in the depths of his mind. Even in what was supposed to be death, the bastard was hunting her, tormenting her from her memories. In life, there was nothing that Specs could do to truly free her from his claws, but he refused to let him win now. Not when he had to get her back.
“You will never have her again, you bloodsucking, pathetic, wrinkled basted. Let. Her. GO!” As his shout echoed in the space, Specs pulled a final time with all of his might as a loud crack followed. As he pulled the bits away, there was a pause of peace before the wood suddenly exploded towards him.
Specs was knocked to the ground by the sheer force of the explosion, lying on his back as ice ran down his spine and dread knotted in his stomach. There was no need to see the memory or to hear the words to know what this was. This was the fear, the hopelessness that she felt when Faxon drained her of her blood, the despair when she lay in the cold cell, terrified that she would become a pawn forced to fight her friends. That moment that followed her in her dreams for her entire life and that he watched torture her every time.
With a deep breath, Specs pushed away the emotions that assaulted his senses, slowly rising to his feet. Even as the anchors that kept her to the tree were broken, he knew that there was still one thing—or, well, to be more specific, things —that were standing in his way of truly freeing her, and he had to be ready to face them head-on.
Right on cue, as the last of the wood crumbled away, the willow tree around her suddenly began to violently shake as a harsh wind filled the area, and the flowers around him began to tremble and jerk as the presence he had felt before suddenly became too overbearing to ignore. The voices of many deities filled the air, sharply demanding
“Who dares to disturb the duty this soul has devoted itself to?”
Immediately, he was irritated. The way they spoke about her was as if she were an object. Had he been a cat, his fur would have begun to stand on edge as he bitterly answered, “Her. The duty that she devoted HERSELF to—and by duty, you mean making her suffer for all eternity as her soul is forced to experience the different passages of time at the same time? Yeah no. I’m here to take her back to where she belongs.”
“The price was one it paid willingly for the power that it was granted. ” The wind around him picked up in intensity, displaying the displeasure that the gods had “ It chose to dedicate its entire being to keeping the oath it had made. An oath that it made to you .” He knew what they were trying to do. They were trying to make him react, make him feel responsible, or make him think that what they did to her was positive. He knew what it actually was. It was a torture that they could never justify.
“I am well aware that I am the one to whom she made the promise too. I am the source of what made her make such a decision in the first place. But that also means I have the power to say this. The promise she made has been fulfilled. Well and truly fulfilled a million times over. Therefore, I am taking. Her. Back.”
“You would risk the lives that it protects—the lives of your people that are under its power.”
Specs smirked as he looked up towards the stars. “Thats the funny thing about you gods. You always boast about how great your powers are, but you never really pay attention to the amount of time that they last.” He looked back at Elora. “I know that they will be safe even with her soul separated from the trees because I better than anyone know how strong her will is. And with her will becoming infused with your powers, it will remain as promised, keeping the people of the islands safe until time itself stops. That is how strong her will to keep them safe is, and besides, technically, the promise was to keep them safe. Keeping them safe does not mean watching over them.”
The winds continued to howl around him as the gods considered his words. His coat whipped around his legs as he waited, and then it suddenly stopped. The wind was replaced by a gentle breeze, and Specs had his answer. There was a feeling of joy in the wind, as if all along they too were waiting for someone to end her suffering. The last words they said were
“She has chosen well her companions; forgive us for the pain we caused her and help her get the rest that she deserves.”
Before him, the willow tree seemed to come alive as it shifted and churned, pulling away from Elora’s form and carefully handing her over to Specs, who took her and guided her down to the ground. As the tree faded to a cluster of petals that blew into oblivion, the tiefling focused entirely on his friend.
Cradling her upper body to his chest, he used a free hand to brush away the hair that covered her face, sharply inhaling at what he saw. The first thing that he noticed were what looked like scars going down from her eyes, almost like tears that would never fade. He wondered if perhaps that occurred during her transformation, when the power ripped her apart. However, what truly shook him was seeing her eyes.
Her eyes were open, but they did not seem to see anything. They were unfocused and gazing at something beyond him, something he would never understand. The eyes that he saw were empty and dull. The eyes that he had known for so long were full of joy, life, and kindness. They were broken, and the person he knew was broken.
"Elora,” he whispered, gently pushing her hair behind her ears and trying to prop her head so that he could properly look into her eyes. “I’m right here. Come on, my friend, please give me some sort of sigh that a part of you is still in there.”
Though it only was a minute, the silence that followed his words felt like a lifetime to Specs until finally there was movement. It was subtle, but her eyes shifted slightly, and she almost seemed to truly meet his. As he let out a sigh of relief, she spoke in a voice so quiet…so broken that he almost didn’t hear it.
“I’m so tired.”
A sad smile appeared on his lips as he began to shift to pick her up. “I know. Close your eyes, El; you can rest now.” Once she was securely in his arms, Specs stood up and began to walk to where he had come from. The closer he drew to the exit, her body began to shimmer, until all that was left was a single blue rose, its petals wilted and torn. The form that her core took reflected the state of her heart, and seeing how it was, Specs couldn’t help but feel remorse and yet also a sense of determination. Though the damage that was done will never be undone, he knew that he was going to be by her side to help her heal.
~~~~~~
The second that Specs returned to his own afterlife, he knew that he was going to have to work fast. Not only was he fighting against the window of time that he would have to ensure her soul was reforged properly, he was also going to have to be faster than the other threats that loomed. Thankfully, he had the foresight to prepare everything needed for the ritual itself in advance, so all he had to do was place the soul in its place. But even then, time was still going to be tight.
Immediately he got to work, placing the soul like a puzzle at the center of the circle, and once all of the fragments were aligned, he placed the core at the center, where the heart would rest. He rushed to his place in the circle, practically sliding across the wooden deck of the ship that he had made his home.
Already, as he started to begin to chant what was taught to him, Specs could feel the dangers of the afterlife starting to stir. Creatures that were born from the darkness of mortal hearts were given the duty of torturing the cruel but also purging out the intruders that might be potential threats, and right now there was an unknown soul in their territory. As the howls echoed in the distance, feeling as if they were shaking the veil itself, Specs did his best to focus on the ritual.
The words that he spoke were ancient, lost to time, and only remembered by a few. The words with which he was warned must never be spoken by a living being, lest they wish to lose everything. Thankfully, for that, he could use a loophole, one of the very few perks of being dead. As the magic began to flow through him, he could understand why it was dangerous. The necrotic energy that began to pull in was more than any he had felt before—a truly overwhelming feeling that could snuff out all life in its vicinity. Slowly, a dark purple magic began to spread across the runes from where his fingers were, seeping across the ground like ink and soaking the area in a dull glow.
He watched as the ink moved towards the offerings of the circle. Part of the ritual involved objects that would be used to tie down her soul—things that had importance in her life that her soul might be drawn to and recognize. There were a total of four that they had been able to come up with, and thanks to Avren's help, Specs had been able to create near-perfect recreations. The first was a flower crown created from deep blue roses, just like the ones that Avren had given her. The second was the pair of wedding rings that Elora and Avren had exchanged. The third was a recreation of the beetle shell necklace that he had crafted for her, and the final was the carved wooden pendant that she had gotten from her parents at the start of the adventure.
The objects were laid out in a spiral towards the center, and he watched as the magic began to flow beneath each item. Then, one by one, the items were absorbed by the ink until they reached the center. As soon as the last item was consumed, a bright purple light erupted from the runes as large black vines covered in thorns shot up from the ground. These thorns shifted and grew at an alarming rate, with two spreading around to create a dome around the entire ritual, while the others went to the center and created a throned cocoon around the collection of soul fragments. At first, Specs was alarmed by what was happening, until he heard a howl incredibly close by.
Without stopping the chant, he turned to see a large grouping of the beasts suddenly climbing up the edge of his ship, charging directly towards him. Had those thorns not been there, they would have begun to tear apart the soul. However, he realized that the thorns were there for a reason, and when he focused just a little, he swore he felt a familiar magic presence, and he smiled. Even when she was shattered, Elora’s magic still was determined to keep him safe.
He was a little worried at the idea of the beasts getting through, but that worry was very quickly extinguished when he suddenly saw a Goliath man rip away one of the creatures and a barrage of magic and arrows shoot down the others. Looking between the cracks, Specs saw Avren and her children at her side, armed to the teeth to hold back the horde. Standing at Avren's side was the first child they ever adopted, a human girl named Robin, who met his eyes as she shouted, “We got this, Uncle Specs! You focus on getting mom back!”
A huge grin of pride spread on his face as he couldn’t help but think, 'Thanks, little bird.’ With all of the distractions now taken care of, he was able to truly focus everything on the ritual. He pushed more of his magic into the words as his eyes remained glued to the cocoon, watching as the ink started to trail up the vines before disappearing between the cracks. As he watched, his mind could not help but recall Elora when they first met. She had been so young, so new to the world. There was an excitement for adventure and a kindness that he had not seen often in his life before. The genuine care she showed even after they had not known each other long, as she healed his wounds after he did foolish things such as chasing after a mad assassin on his own, The look of determination on her face as they prepared to take on Faxon, as well as the pain that followed her every night after,.
Specs recalled how Elora had always shown who she was with pride, unafraid to be vulnerable with her family, always living her every day with joy, a cheer that he was never truly able to comprehend. As he recalled these moments, he realized just how much he truly missed her. He missed their back-and-forth banter and the way she would get so easily flustered every time he teased her about her relationship. Specs missed his best friend, and he was ready to get her back.
As the last of the spell left his mouth, Specs now watched with baited breath to see if it would even work. The problem was that, despite everything, there was always a chance of failure, and he wasn’t sure he could handle it if it did fail. For a moment, there was nothing as the thorns that had created his cover began to slowly crumble away, despite the beasts that still tried to ravage them. He felt his magic, though weakened from the ritual, beginning to flare up in preparation to defend her, but as the vines reached half way, the creatures suddenly stopped. They all began to let out howls and cries of confusion, as if the prey they were hunting had disappeared. Then, to his utter joy, they let out one final howl before retreating, returning to the darkness in which they lived.
As the creatures left the ship, Specs looked back just in time to see a bright green light suddenly burst from the cocoon of thorns. It grew brighter and brighter, like the shining sun illuminating the night, getting so bright that all who were there had to look away. The light lasted a few minutes, but as soon as it began to fade, Specs quickly looked back. Though it took some time for his eyes to readjust to the darkness, he saw that the thorns had vanished. In it's place, atop a bed of flower petals, was Elora, her soul whole once more.
Specs let out a mix of a gasp and a laugh when he saw her, relief washing over him like a breath of fresh air. He quickly rose to his feet to reach her side, with Avren but moments behind him. Though there was still a faint glow around her body, likely a bit of an aftereffect from the magic used, it did not stop Specs from placing a hand on her shoulder and shaking gently.
“Elora? Elora, can you hear me? It's Specs; Avren is here too, as are all your children.” There was no response. “Come on, please, open your eyes and make a noise. Something to tell us you’re here!” Again, there was nothing. Avren, who was fighting back tears, placed both of her hands on Elora’s face as she pressed her forehead against hers.
She remained like that for a moment. Specs was able to see how her body trembled from the tears. Then, quietly, Avren whispered, “My love, my light…my beautiful rose, please come back to me; come back to us. All of us miss you so much.” As she finished speaking, Avren placed a gentle kiss on her wife's lips.
As if taken straight from a fairytale book, as Avren pulled away from the kiss, Elora’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, her face scrunching and a groan escaping her lips as her eyes opened. Unable to control himself, the moment he saw her move, Specs leapt up to his feet with a cheer of joy that it had worked. He had managed to bring her back. However, as he looked back at her and met her eyes, he paused. Her eyes, though they now had the life that he fondly remembered, seemed to have cracks running all through them. Normally, her iris had been an emerald green, but now there were different colors mixed in as well—reds, blues, any color one could imagine. The best way to describe what he saw was to imagine a crystal ball that had been shattered into a hundred pieces and placed back together with black adhesive.
As he regained control of his excitement, Specs kneeled back to the ground to help Avren carefully lift Elora up so that she was sitting. Once she was, Elora slowly reached up and grabbed her head, flinching at every movement. “What…what happened. My head... I feel like I was used as a giant club and smashed into a rock twenty times.” She asked the two of them as she looked up, and something about hearing her voice—her true voice—broke a wall in both Specs and Avren. As the tears began to fall, both of them pulled her into the tightest hug they could possibly muster. Elora let out a quiet gasp from the sudden movement, but after a moment of feeling their embrace around her, she too began to sob.
Her cries were not joyful ones. They were the cries of someone who had been alone for longer than anyone should be—the cries of someone who had been through maddening pain and torture without anyone to hold her. But now she was back home with her family, right where she belonged. Specs and Avren held tight as she cried, refusing to let go and refusing to let her cry alone ever again. Surrounding them, all of the children stood close but still provided space for their reunion, knowing their own time would come later.
Elora cried in their arms until she could cry no more, clinging to Specs and Avren as if they were the only things keeping her grounded. When her tears did finally fade, she pulled back to look at them. “I..I thought I was never going to see you again, not after what-" As the memories of what happened returned to her, she gasped, her eyes going wide with panic. “The islands! Oh gods, what happened to the islands? If I’m here, what happened to them? Are they safe?”
Specs answered quickly to reassure her fears. “They’re fine. The islands are safe and will be protected for many, many more years because of what you did.” As she looked up at him with confusion, desiring an explanation, Specs began the lecture that he had gone over a thousand times in his mind. "Seriously, though, Elora. When I asked you to protect them, I didn’t mean, ‘Shatter your soul and go through pain unthinkable in order to sacrifice yourself so that they can be saved.’ I never would have wanted you to take it as far as you did.”
“What else was I supposed to do?” She suddenly snapped back. “The grove was on the verge of complete slaughter, and if it fell, then the other islands would have been doomed. There was no other choice for me to make!”
“THERE IS ALWAYS ANOTHER CHOICE!” Specs shouted, not realizing his frustration was getting the better of him. “Gods Elora you were always awful at taking care of yourself, but that takes the cake. You always put yourself in danger without thinking about what would happen to you, and you do stupid things if you think they will protect others!”
“That's how I am, Specs.” Elora's own voice started to rise to match his tone. “I take care of the people I care about, no matter how it might affect me.”
“That shouldn’t mean tearing your soul apart and being forced to endure an eternity of endless torture!”
“It does. And if I had to, I would do it again.” Specs actually flinched back a little at the harshness of her tone, all of the frustration he had being put out when he properly met her gaze. “You told me, back during the times when I told you about your deal, that you would do it all again no matter what. How is that any different than what I did? The decision you made caused you to go through your own personal hell, and the decision I made had me go through mine.”
He was silent as they sat there in their standoff, their eyes locked, and both of them were breathing heavily from the tension. He saw, in that moment, the fire that burned in his eyes. The fire that she somehow kept hidden until it was needed—the magnificent fire that burned Faxon's ship to the bottom of the sea. It was the same fire that made her who she was. He realized he had forgotten that part about her, blaming the time apart as the reason.
With a small sigh that was followed by a laugh, he said, “I’m sorry, you’re right. I can’t even being to imagine what emotions you might have been feeling in that moment, and if I were in your position, I probably would have done the same.” The heated expression on Elora’s face instantly relaxed at his apology, her eyes wide in surprise. A small, playful smirk came to his face as Specs reached over and flicked her forehead. Before she could protest, he teased, “That was for making this old soul fear that he was never going to see you again and making him have to travel all across the multiverse to get you back where you belong. Home with us.”
Elora didn’t respond as she rubbed the spot on her forehead as she slowly stood up. Without warning, she grabbed his arms and pulled him into another hug. As she held him close, she whispered in his ear, “Thank you, Specs.” Her words caused him to smile as he returned the hug, gently patting her on the back as he responded.
“Welcome home, Elora.”