The Wind in the Willows

A great gusting breeze drove waves of snow across the land, sounding as weary as Faye Souldancer felt. Air is the hardest working element, though mages often forget it. Few have the willpower and endurance to command the storm; even the giggling breeze is as slippery as a teasing lover. You can guide the wind but never control it. That lack of control was enough to scare away all but the most reckless or overconfident mages. Faye had watched practitioners of the elemental arts ignore the wind for decades, preferring the seductive destruction of fire, the solid walls and unstoppable force of earth, or the flexible willingness of water. Perhaps she was biased, being a Tan'eryth, children of the wind, but air had always been her favorite element. In idle moments, Faye had often lamented her inability to command that most fickle of magics. But in Estrevaire, elemental magic was inextricably spirit magic, and the nature of the blood magic she'd been cursed with since childhood made all spirits give her a wide berth. Even as the wind brushed across her scarred skin, its touch was lighter against her body than on the world around her. To another, the chill of the late winter day would knife through clothes and flesh. But the sieliyette, fickle and flighty wind spirits feared the demonic Maho tethered to her flesh and soul and refrained from inconveniencing her as much as they could, hoping to avoid the Maho's deadly backlash. Faye didn't mind. Her travels across Estrevaire were challenging enough without the added annoyance of poor weather. 

Taking a deep breath, relishing even the reduced cold as it shot through her nostrils like qotha dust, Faye caught the slight tinge of salt on the breeze. She was close to the sea. Shading her eyes from sunlight glaring off snow-caked willow branches. Willows, this far west? I must have wandered into a druid sanctuary. Faye was deep in Tiger Clan lands now, nearly half the Empire away from Phoenix, where the willows grew most prominently. Willows did not favor the dry, stony soil here. Few plants did. Spirit blessings and druid magic had long been integral in feeding the massive armies Tiger produced. Brushing the snow from a long, fingerlike strand of leaves, Faye uncovered supple green, further supporting her hunch. These trees will never again wear their winter browns. She'd once remarked to a druid the irony she found in so-called natural magic, often subverting the cycles and tenets of nature. She'd been succinctly and summarily banished from that druid enclave. Beyond the willows, their snow-laden branches drifting in the forceful wind, a cliff jutted out over the sea. Lost in the throes of memory, Faye settled on the cliff.

Thinking about that druid enclave had sent the woman's mind winding down rough but familiar paths of thought. It had been weeks since she'd last encountered another sentient being, and stretches of time like these always coaxed painful memories from the depths of her mind. Memories of sweeter days when loneliness didn't rule her every waking hour. Memories of Ryota. Her eyes stung, and not from the salt on the wind. Nearly a decade had passed since his demise, and though the pain of his loss had dimmed somewhat, it still rankled. Her flesh knitted quickly, even from the worst wounds, but scars upon her heart were not so easy to recover from. Unlike most, I don't have other experiences to use as bandages. The years of peace she'd snatched from the Maho's jaws at Ryota's side had been the highlight of her life, and these days, the only people who wanted to be anywhere near her carried weapons, futilely attempting to sever the Blood Witch from the tapestry of the world. I feel the most pity for those who actually manage to kill me. They know as well as I do that I'll awaken again in a few days. 

Faye had almost grown to enjoy the attempts on her life, something she knew should horrify her. But, they at least broke up the monotony of the road and temporarily sated the bloodlust of the violence-craving Maho. 

Ryota would rebuke me for finding any amusement in these battles. That the opinions of a dead man weighed so heavily on her mind was a subject of endless contemplation for Faye. She'd left countless corpses in her wake, each one with family, friends, dreams, and goals in life. Goals that were cut short abruptly when they decided to hunt the unkillable Blood Witch. Save for her first few victims, the nameless faces and wordless screams of those who had fallen at her hand melted together. All save Ryota. The man she'd loved dearly. The man who had healed her and perhaps held the key to her salvation. The man she'd failed to save when the past she'd avoided languishing in his love came crashing down upon them. She'd walked away from that confrontation. Ryota and the town he'd lived in all his life had not been so fortunate. 

Compared to the long life of a Tan'eryth, the time they'd spent together was wind blowing through the willows. It was grasped in the fingers for the briefest of moments and then gone again, leaving only its imprint behind as a reminder that it was ever there to begin with. For the winter wind, it was a light dusting of snow left behind wherever it traveled.

Ryota was her wind, her sweet peace, slipping out of her grasp, eternally out of reach. His memory was like the snow, sticking to her mind, refusing to melt. She willed his memory away whenever it came and, at the same time, took comfort from it—another of the improbable dichotomies all too present in mortality. It was Faye's weakness and her strength; the one weapon that could kill her more surely than steel and her shield when the hatred of the land bore down upon her.

There had been willows in Nockeye, Ryota's hometown. They'd eaten lunch together, backs braced against the largest of them, settled in the center of town. They'd made love beneath the swaying branches of another, near the edge of town. Faye wished for one more breath of his fresh air that she might hold in her lungs when the world inevitably tried to smother her again. 

But the spirits wouldn't answer the prayers of a monster, so Faye knew she'd have to live with the pain. It was her punishment, she knew, because she'd caused Ryota, her beautiful, perfect lover, to die amid happiness.