It feels odd to be retracing backwards the path which once led her to her own demise. Of course, when Draco had led Aura, Juniper and Lisette to the Shrine, they hadn’t known they were going to be handed over to Mallos or that the former would spend her last days of that life there. Even so, following the route towards the Shady Labyrinth provokes mixed feelings in Aura, and it doesn’t help that she’s still pumped with adrenaline both from her hasty escape from Falcon Point and from braving her phobia. Despite the fact that the little territory is full of memories too, she’s glad when she eventually reaches it because the bustling activity helps to take her mind off things.
Of course, she’d known that Adonis would open his doors to all the fairies who had been left homeless by the volcanic eruption. She finds him where she expects to find him; hammering a nail into the wooden slat of a newly built temporary hut, shirtless and sweating despite the chill from the lack of sun. Forcing herself not to hesitate else she may never have the courage to get near him, Aura edges silently towards him and clears her throat to announce her presence. Adonis turns and smiles warmly at her.
“There’s another one there, if you want to lend a hand,” he indicates towards a hammer on the ground and returns to his nail. After a moment, Aura picks it up and returns to him, feeling as useless as ever despite the tool clutched in her little white hand. “I’m doing it nice and strong,” Adonis continues, “since we don’t know how long they’ll be staying. Was it really just one little rat which caused that great volcano?” Aura nods mutely. “I wonder what the other curses will be,” he muses.
At last, she finds her voice. “I don’t know. They could be anything.”
“We’ll have to watch our backs.”
Aura nods again and closes her eyes. It’s time. She can’t put it off any longer.
“Adonis,” she starts, but her voice falters. Adonis turns towards her with an inquisitive look in his golden eyes, and she finds she can’t explain. There’s only one way to teach him – and that’s to show him.
Gently, she reaches up and places her hands on his temples, closing her eyes and focusing on her memories. They come quick and easily – she doesn’t even need to visualise the werewolf to see its glowing golden eyes, feel its hot breath on her neck, smell the sickly stench of blood... the agony, the shattered pride, the later realisation of her pregnancy... she focuses it all down the link, transferring her memories of that terrible night to his mind, leaving nothing out. When at last they break apart with a mutual gasp, Aura reaches out for her divinity instinctively and finds a gaping hole.
“That’s it,” she says quietly, trying to control her breathing. “My magic’s gone. It’s all used up.”
Shaman has someone to turn to, but not someone with divinity.
They’re in this together. Alone.
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