Thia
Gwyn
Ntombi
Rui
Gone
Thia stared at the flagstones, still and silent, her face grim and taut. Her arms hung tensely at her sides, her tightly-balled fists hinting at the turmoil within as her reddened eyes threatened to bore a hole in the stonework.
This was the last spot where Shalelu had stood, until she was struck by the violet ray that had torn her from this plane of existence. Where she was now, whether she was in danger, whether she was even alive - Thia knew none of these things, and the not-knowing ate at her. She had thought she had known the risks when they stepped through the portal that had brought them to these halls. She had known this was dangerous, even foolhardy, and that there was a chance they might not return. That she might die, that they might all die.
This was worse than that, though - worse than death. Shalelu was simply gone, leaving nothing behind - no certainty, no body, no last whispered goodbyes. Just gone. The physical emptiness left behind was bad enough, but was almost as nothing when compared to the gutwrenching emotional emptiness within once Thia had realized what had happened. In the hours since, all Thia had found to fill it with was sadness, and uncertain grief, and furious determination to do something - though she knew not what.
Thia hadn’t even known Shalelu all that long, the two having met just four short months ago when Thia first arrived in Sandpoint. It didn’t matter. Those months were more than enough. In that time there had been days spent together, and days spent apart - and those spent together were always better for it. Shalelu had slotted into Thia’s life like she belonged, and now suddenly she was gone without trace - and it had left Thia with the most devastating sense of loss she’d experienced since her mother had died.
"Thia..."
The unfamiliar voice startled her out of her grief, and she spun to her left in surprise. Her momentary confusion was soon replaced by realization and relief.
"Gwyn!" she exclaimed, before wiping the burgeoning tears away from her eyes with the back of her hand. "Sorry, I—" she began, and sighed. "This is going to take some getting used to."
The dwarf looked up at her and cocked an eyebrow in response.
"For you and I both, I assure you," he stated simply. "There were few things I would have considered myself more intimately familiar with than the back of my own hand,” he continued. He paused for a moment, raising his hand and inspecting the curious sight. "That is no longer the case," he finished, more quietly and a little mournfully.
Until so very recently, Gwyn had been a human man - one of the smartest Thia had ever known. But that man had died, suddenly and violently, before being returned to life as a dwarf. As miraculous and awe-inspiring as the results of Rui's reincarnation rituals were, they were not without consequence, did not leave their subjects unchanged. Whilst his intellect and personality seemed unaffected by the nature of his return, the same could not be said for his appearance.
"It is also no small matter," he carried on, summoning some forced joviality, "to find one's head at a height formerly occupied by one's navel. It certainly gives one a new perspective, you could say."
His misguided attempt at amiability and humour irked Thia in these circumstances, but she let it pass unchallenged. Gwyn had his own grief to process, that of the loss of his own body, and how he chose to deal with it was for him to decide.
Thia’s lack of response was enough for Gwyn to pick up on, however, and he swiftly changed the subject.
“Anyway, I did not interrupt your thoughts for this. I believe it time we discussed how best to continue,” he said. “We have licked what wounds we can, and have others that must unfortunately remain open for the time being,”—at which Thia turned slightly to look back at Shalelu’s vacant spot once more—“but we have lingered too long already. We have made our mark on these halls, and sooner or later that mark will be noticed — and we will be hunted. Whilst this chamber is secreted behind hidden doors, we cannot assume that our foes are not already aware of it, and remaining risks us being trapped here. Whether we press on with our goal, or seek means of escape, we must move - and soon.”
Thia thought on that, and nodded in wordless agreement. The trail they'd left behind them wouldn't go unnoticed for long.
“We would of course understand any reticence on your part,” the dwarf continued. “After all that has transpired, your thoughts must of course be elsewhere, and finding reason to carry on—”.
Thia’s head snapped back to Gwyn, cutting him off mid-sentence.
“She is my reason,” Thia snapped. At the other side of the chamber, Rui and Ntombi’s own quiet conversation came to an abrupt end at the disturbance. “She is my everything. She’s out there, somewhere, and I won’t give up on her - but I can’t help her right now, not while we’re here. So yes, we press on, we finish what we started, and we get out of here. Then, wherever she is and whatever it takes, I’m finding Shalelu - and woe betide anyone that tries to stop me.”
Gwyn, wide-eyed at the unwarranted rebuke, nodded hurriedly in response. “Quite, quite,” he agreed, collecting himself. “I will pack my books together and prepare to depart,” he said, and stepped away.
Thia watched for a couple of seconds as he left, then leaned her head back to face the ceiling of the chamber. She closed her eyes, and sighed. That hadn’t been fair, and she knew it. The frustration and sense of helplessness had boiled over, and she’d snapped at a friend who’d been through just as traumatic an experience as her own.
Exhausted and disheartened, Thia leaned against the wall and slid slowly down to the floor. Eyes closed, she heard the deceptively soft tread of Nyx slowly walking over to her, and felt the bear’s forehead nuzzling against hers. Thia slipped a hand around under the bear’s neck to scratch affectionately behind her ear. Nyx rumbled mournfully.
“I know, Nyx,” murmured Thia sadly. “I miss her too.”