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B'intana had learned long enough ago to recognize when the Echo was going to throw her for a loop and she steadied herself against the railing that overlooked the Aitiascope and the Aetherial Sea while Krile's voice faded into the background and what was happening elsewhere, now--or as close to now as it could get without her being there--filled her head.
B'alith, the other Scions, there in the aetherial sea, resentful remnants of lives lost, souls unwilling or unable to move on surrounding them, unhappy with the physical intrusion into their domain of those yet possessed of life, of those for whom soul remained wed to flesh.
She should have been down there with them. She should have been there between those creatures and her brother, and her friends. It wasn't that she didn't trust Thancred's ability to do the same but gods-damnit she should have been down there. Every swing from the creatures, every blow that threatened to break past Thancred's defense set her muscles to twitching, her tail to lashing. Krile said something to her but she couldn't hear it over the rush of aether as B'alith flung fire and ice and lightning, as Alphinaud's nouliths whirred through the air.
And then they were surrounded. Surrounded by shadow that grew thick and foul, a dark fog of anger and disgust that it seemed might swallow them and leave nothing behind.
And then there was light.
Light so warm and golden, sweet as honey, full of laughter and ferocity and--
And the shadows were cut down, left B'alith and the other Scions with a moment's respite, a silence in which they could catch their breaths.
"Moonie!" She didn't know if she actually spoke, but as if the Echo had heard her and realized what it had done, it let go; the vision fell away, left her head aching and her muscles shot through with adrenaline, her fists clenched and her cheeks wet with tears.
"B'intana?" Krile's voice came calm and soothing from nearby, the concern in it welcome and infuriating all at once.
"I'm fine." B'intana pushed herself back to her feet and before anyone could figure out what she was doing--before anyone could stop her--she sprang toward the entrance to the aetherial sea, flung herself after her brother and the Scions, flung herself toward Moenbryda.
Krile shouted after her, demanded to know what she thought she was doing and followed that demand immediately with a plea to not. Whatever she had seen, it was already over, it was already done, she couldn't do anything about it.
And that was the problem, wasn't it? That had been the problem since Moenbryda had sacrificed her aether, had given up herself, for the chance to destroy an Ascion, to give the Scions another moment of quiet in which to breathe, to regroup, to move forward again.
The sound that escaped B'intana as aether wrapped around her was feral, raw with fury and grief both. It didn't matter how long ago that wound was opened in her heart, it had not yet healed and had only had others added to it. Someday her heart would be nothing but scars but today, in that moment, the pain was fresh all over again and she could not stop herself from running, from trying to reach the salve that might alleviate the ache, might give her a measure of comfort, however brief.
She cut down anything that came near her as she ran through the sea, scythe and voidsent avatar both responding to her desperation in ways that they had not before.
Somehow her body knew when and where to stop, but no one was there. Her brother and the Scions having already pushed forward.
No shadows to harry her.
And worse, no light.
"Moenbryda!" B'intana dropped her scythe and turned around slowly, looking, listening. She drew a deep breath and smelled nothing but ozone and ash and beneath it, a watery coolness that she had decided must be the aether that surrounded her. "Moonie?"
Silence answered her and she collapsed to the floor, the crystal hard and uncaring, cold through the wraps that covered her hands and the leather of her trousers.
"Moonie, please. Please, I--" B'intana pressed her forehead to the floor and choked on a sob; she hated the tears running down her cheeks, hated that she couldn't stop them, that she hadn't been able to stop them the first time, that she hadn't been able to save Moenbryda.
"Shh, my little fighter."
"Moonie?" B'intana pushed herself upright and had to look away from the brilliance for a moment. "Moonie!" She flung herself at the light, felt it envelope her, like a hug but not, like the beautiful crushing wrap of Moenbrday's arms clutching the small miqo'te to her chest, and yet nothing at all like that. B'intana sobbed even harder.
"Shh. You're okay, Inty."
B'intana shook her head and choked on whatever words tried to make their way from her lips. She was snotty and teary and shaking and nothing was okay about any of it.
"Yes you are."
A rush of something. A distant howl. For a moment the light was banked by a whisper of shadow.
"But you can't stay here, Inty."
B'intana clung to the light, felt the sharp prickle in the tattoos on her back that served as something more than a sixth sense to warn of danger. "You can't make me leave."
And that embrace eased up. For a moment, an echo of Moenbryda stood in front of B'intana, her form certain and strong and beautiful and vibrant. "Your friends need you."
"I don't care." Guilt pricked at the base of B'intana's skull.
"You and I both know that isn't true." And Moenbryda smiled, cupped B'intana's cheek. "Your friends need you and I will be here when you are ready."
"I'm r--"
Moenbryda touched an atherial fingertip to B'intana's lips and it was like a kiss and an admonishment both. "Your friends need you. Your brother needs you." Moenbryda let her finger fall away.
"But I need you," B'intana sobbed even as the image of Moenbryda faded, as the light drifted back into the sea surrounding her. "Moonie."
"I love you, B'intana Jinh." Moenbryda's voice whispered through the aether and yet was somehow for B'intana's ears alone. "Now go help your brother and the rest of the Scions save the world; they can't do it without you."