Metallic threads held her limbs hostage. The sharp scent of damp soil drowned her lungs until her chest felt weighed down to the earth beneath her spine.

"You are but a prisoner of fate, child."

The voice was soft, yet severe: sugarcane that burned in the growling bowels of a wildfire.

Though Astrid somehow knew it would do no good, she struggled against the confinements; Earth's elemental threads only twisted closer into her skin, biting at her wrists with savage pressure. Her fingertips tingled like a nest of hornets. It made her words vibrate up her throat. "Who's there?"

"A goddess who wishes to set you free."

Astrid frowned. "Then release me."

"I cannot."

"Then you cannot truly be a goddess as you claim."

A burning breeze brushed across her forehead. Astrid strained her neck to follow it, the deity's words carried on the hot breath like a laugh from a flame.

"Your Spirit reminds me of another—" Though Astrid squinted, she still could not find a face nor a mouth, but the words continued, searing into her brain— "A soul in search for control amongst those who sought to steal it."

A glimpse of color flickered into focus. A muted, dull red, pulsing into a heart-shaped face, two sockets where eyes should be—

"A soul who held power but knew not what to do with it," the voice said. Its color blared brighter, splashing across Astrid's brow. "A soul who was cast as the villain of the realm by those who had once loved her."

Astrid blinked as the red glowing face extended into long tendrils of floating hair, flashes of blues and yellows trailing throughout the goddess's locks. Because this voice did belong to a goddess; Astrid could see it now. The lights of the Eyelesene Glaciers exploded overhead as if her realization had summoned them.

"Luminae Luerhn," she said. "Spirits' Glow. You are Gaia."

"Clever girl." Goddess Gaia existed in color: golden threads twining down the shapes of arms, hues of purple washing down the lines of her thighs as her essence knelt before Astrid's prone, trapped form. "Clever, cursed child."

Strange how the fear Astrid knew should have silenced her tongue failed to manifest in the overwhelming presence of a deity. Instead, she held Gaia's blazing, void of a gaze and twisted her wrists. "You cannot release me because you hold no dominion over Earth's threads. Even goddesses' powers know limits."

The beautiful shape of her face tilted. "Clever, but naive." Gaia shifted closer, her colors born of Eyelesene burning the small hairs on Astrid's arms. "I cannot free you because this prison is of your own making, Thief."

Her voice lowered in prophetic recitation—"A thief will arise to conquer the rest."

It was those words that finally brought forth the terror. Astrid recoiled against it. A nauseous, vile concoction bubbled through her intestines, twisting them, burning up her throat into a silent scream that refused to come forth. A flickering thread of fuchsia flashed across Gaia's face in the place where a grin would be. Astrid stared at the mimicry, transfixed, until Gaia released a soft kiss to the wind. A long finger formed from the colorful stump of her wrist, stretching outwards in vibrant threads of richest browns and darkest pinks. When the tip of it brushed across Astrid's forehead, the scream finally came.

"It was I—" Gaia's words seared into Astrid's mind, soaring above the harsh wails of Astrid's pained screams. The goddess pressed her finger harder above Astrid's brow. "It was I who was cast as the realms' villain all those centuries ago. Join me, thief, and we shall reclaim what was once a gift but now belongs to us—"

Astrid choked on a scream and jolted upright. Pebbles from the shore of Holalethe Lake clattered at her feet as she struggled to kick her limbs free from the numbness of sleep. You're fine, Salvera. Her chest heaved like there was not enough oxygen in all the realms to content her lungs. It had only been a dream. The skin above her brow burned, and she swiped at the sweat that had gathered there.

Or, rather, a nightmare.

She fell back on her hands, holding her breath to fight the claustrophobia threatening her sanity. Beside her, Sebastian shifted uneasily, still stuck in a light slumber even though Galandreal's golden-pink sun began to crest over the lake's teal edge. It was rather breathtaking, but her breaths still came heavy and labored. They puffed into frightful clouds when they met the chilled air. The temperature had dropped dramatically throughout the night; it was the only reason she had agreed to sleep cocooned against Sebastian's warm chest. After all, retaining body heat was essential to her surviving this third task and making it back to Halorium. No matter the excuses she presented to herself, her traitorous body still curled towards his own even after she moved away from his softly snoring form and onto her feet.

Her limbs begged to stretch, to move, excruciatingly restless after being constrained by Earth's threads in that bizarre dream. She wished she could do something, but here she was, stuck, cursed, and awaiting the arrival of Abel with Pavel's Monverta, which hopefully held the answers for how Sebastian could successfully retrieve the Black Quill.

Only for her to steal it.

Join me, thief.

Astrid grit her teeth, brushed the remnants of Goddess Gaia's grotesque, colorful finger from her brow, and picked up her blade.

This is a prison of your own making.

Well, if that were the case, Astrid vowed to stop at nothing to claw her way out of it herself. Goddesses, be damned. 

O O O

It was the soft, short grunts and shallow thunks that initially wrestled Sebastian from sleep. Stretching out a hand to feel for Astrid beside him and finding the spot cold and empty fully roused him to his sore feet. He scanned the pastel, rocky shore first, fearful that she may have stumbled into those cursed waters. But the sounds of exertion came from behind him, so he spun around and hurried into the sweeping, swaying trees.

Sebastian had never been interested in botany, ironically, so naming the trees he passed proved to be a losing battle. Still, there was something about them that seemed beautifully alive. If he let go of his senses, he knew he would see the threads of Earth crawling up the trunks, weaving golden-brown between its branches and fanning green against the bountiful leaves that bloomed in the lush, mottled autumn hues of orange, red, and yellow. They crunched under his cold, bare feet as he quickened his footsteps; there was a part of him that cringed when he thought of the living Earth he smashed beneath his loud steps.

Thoughts of trodding upon living threads with his gigantic, doofus toes fled from his thoughts, however, when he rounded a particularly thick, vine-decorated trunk and found Astrid, dagger in hand.

She moved like a dancer, one fist protectively held up to her left cheekbone. The other slashed with her short blade at invisible foes. Her bootless feet moved atop the leaves, dirt, and grass without a sound other than her small exhales of breath as she lunged and spun. Her tunic, the only pieces of clothing she had on when the portal had sucked them through it and deposited them here, clung to the knobs of her spines, bunching between her thighs. She swept her leg high, spinning in the air with it held aloft, and then landed with a thud. Her hand that held the dagger slammed into the earth with a graceful arch, spearing through whatever fearful enemy she faced in her mind.

For a short moment, he allowed his spine to rest against the nearest tree trunk and watched her spar with the air.

When Sebastian finally cleared his throat, Astrid spun, lips pursed, her eyes piercing through his chest like an icy azure bullet.

For some dumb reason, he raised his palms in surrender. In his defense, after that kiss and the chaos of the portal, he wasn't quite sure how he was now meant to act around her. "Er—sorry?"

Her breath released on a hiss, but she loosened her white-knuckled hold on the blade and turned to face him. "Has something happened?"

"No, I—" He pushed away from the tree to approach her— "You weren't there when I woke up. I wanted to make sure you were alright." When his gaze landed on her forehead, he gasped. "Are you alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine—What are you doing?"

He reached for her before she had time to object with anything other than her words. Like her fearsome blade, perhaps. His fingers went automatically to the sunburned skin above her eyebrows; the space right between where her brows met when she scowled. He brushed his thumb over the mark that had seemingly appeared there overnight.

"What happened here?"

She tried to swipe his hands from her face. "Nothing! I don't know what you are—" she paused, her eyelids flickering like someone trapped in a nightmare. This time, Sebastian let her shove his hand aside.

"Astrid?"

Her swallow looked sticky, thick like fresh honey. "Nothing." She took a step backwards and swiped her knife up from where she had struck it into the ground. "I fell earlier. While I trained. It's nothing."

"Since when do you fall?" Not convinced, Sebastian rounded to face her again. She tried to avert his questions, but he could still see the red, tender mark branded into her forehead. By all standards, it did not look like a simple cut from a bash to the head. "It looks like a star."

"I tripped, Bash! It's hardly the end of the world, okay?" Astrid glared at him, cheeks flushed. "My legs are numb with cold because, in case you've forgotten, I don't have pants in this bleeding realm!"

He glanced down at his own stiff trousers. By the Scribes, he even still wore the leather greaves around his shins that Serah had given them both. Why hadn't he thought of taking them off before he got into that pond with Astrid? Oh, right. Because he hadn't been thinking. Not rationally, at least.

"I'm sorry." He scrambled to undo the buckles and knots to his protective, heavy greaves. "I should have offered—"

"I do not want your pants, Bash!" She pinched her nose and turned her back to him. "Just let it go, okay? I fell. That's it. You do not need to save me!"

His weight fell back onto his heels. "Okay." It was hard to not examine the new mark between her crystalline eyes. "Fine. I'll just—" He motioned back to the tree he had leaned against earlier. "Carry on."

Her glower was as cutting as a barbed whip, but she turned away from him and began to throw her blade—over and over again—into the rough bark of the poor tree she had chosen as target practice. Sebastian was sure she hit the same spot with each repetitive, flawless fling of her strong shoulder and slim wrist.

The last throw fell two centimeters shy of the widening dent in the bark.

When her spine straightened under his attention, so did his. She sighed. "I can practically hear your questions."

"You fell."

"Not those questions."

Sebastian scuffled his feet into the grass. "Don't you find it odd?"

She quirked an expression at him over her shoulder but remained silent, motioning for him to continue.

"What I mean is we haven't come across one other Elementi since we've entered Belsynen and Galandreal. Where are the elves? The fae? It's like these realms have been abandoned."

"I noticed." Astrid huffed but lowered her throwing hand. "I just didn't want to frighten you."

His sternum pinched. "And your verdict?"

"Belsynen is a dying breed," she said. "The Light of the fae is fading. It has been for centuries, but since the Purge, their connection to the elemental threads of Light have grown feeble. That light runs through their veins; thus, they weaken."

"But those two fae who attacked us in those tunnels—?"

Astrid snorted. "Those were warriors of the Court of Avylon. You have read legends about them, I'm sure?" She didn't wait for his affirmation even though he had read all about them. Well, his mother and Abel had told him stories of them, anyways. "If they were at their height of strength, we would be dead, Bash. Nothing but ashes on those grimy worm-infested floors of those dismal tunnels."

Sebastian eyed the tree she had been demolishing with her short-blade. "But—"

"But nothing. The warriors of the court cannot be defeated even historically so. The only reason Belsynen does not rule over all seven realms is because the God of Light, Lumu, forbids it. Well, there's that, but also, since the Purge, their fearless warriors have wilted. Melted like candle wax. I—" her words stuttered on her tongue. "I should not have been able to break one so easily in torture."

Sebastian wished to comfort her, but he clasped his hands behind his back instead. "So, there are few of them left?"

Astrid shrugged. "They survive, but they do not travel far from the Court of Avylon any longer. The original rays of God Lumu's light reside there. The further fae travel from it, the weaker they become."

His face pinched, mulling it over. "And the elves?" An image of Abel, her newly designed ears and sharper features, sprang to the forefront of his mind. Shivers erupted up his shoulders; he crossed his arms across his chest like he could feel predatory eyes prying from the bushes. "What of them—?"

A low, rumbling growl pierced into the conversation and shattered it. 

- - -

Well, that's quite the cliffhanger...

See y'all next time!