 Thyri lay in bed staring up at the Pantheon ceiling, her arms tucked up behind her head. He was gone again, another crack had opened in the purple dome and she had been abandoned in favour of monsters and blood. She did not begrudge him, but sometimes she wished he would take her with her. She loved to watch him fight, to see the raw power she felt in him whenever they touched glimmering in action. It dissolved a little of the mystery of his eyes; those vexing, maddening, seductive eyes.
She had watched the little man in green arrive in the Cove from the Pantheon steps a few days previously. His light show had brought a small smile to her full lips; Thyri was unused to seeing magic put to such frivolous uses. She had seen it in its savage form, something primal and untamed, but there was something whimsical about the little man...and his offer had tempted her. How she yearned for something of her own to do, for a purpose beyond seduction and consolation.
Rhaegar did not like the creatures of ancient magic. He had warned her of them often enough, speaking of their trickery and their ill-concealed mischief. Her lover’s warnings echoed in her ears, and for the past few days they had kept her in the Pantheon, restless and curious. Her restraint snapped. She climbed free of the bed and pulled on her boots. It was winter again, and the ground was crisp with frost, the rocky steps which ran down the cliff side to the Cove were treacherous with ice, but she found her way safely to the sand in the end. The crowds had dispersed, and the beach was empty as the promised time approached. Thyri hurried over to the little box and knelt down in front of it, reaching out to take one of the little medallions from within.
No sooner had her fingertips brushed against the metal than she felt a familiar tugging sensation. She found herself pulled through space until her feet were slammed into the ground again. Her eyes flicked automatically to the stone circle where she had met The Oracle the previous year.
In her turn, Thyri approached the tree, gulping back the last of her doubts she knelt down in the earth and began to crawl into the space Omni had opened. The air rushed past her, tugging her forwards through the doorway and sucking her through the dark. Her heart fluttered as her fingers closed sub-consciously around the little metal wolf suspended from the chain that encircled her neck. The realisation dawning with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach; she was going beyond His reach...and she should have known better.
Thyri’s boots suddenly stepped out of nothingness and onto grass. It took a few moments for her to steady herself and regain her balance, the wind had gone, and the world (whichever world it was) had gone still. There was no breeze to caress her cheeks, or chill wind to nip at her lips; there was just nothing. Her eyes opened slowly, and if it had not been for the solid earth beneath her feet Thyri would have suspected that she had become lost in the space between worlds. There seemed to be nothing around her but a thick mist. Thyri extended out her arm cautiously, and watched as her hand disappeared into the fog, until she could see nothing past her elbow. Fire...she needed fire. Withdrawing her arm, Thyri willed warmth into her fingertips and was relieved when the flames she wanted crackled into life and hovered an inch or two above her palm. It did not linger as it normally would, it began to pulse in time with the beating of her heart, transitioning between brightness and dullness with each thump. Thyri watched it, transfixed as it began to dance of its own accord, moving around in a figure of eight in the air above her fingers.
Something sent a shiver down her spine, and for the first time since her arrival, Thyri suddenly felt cold; someone, or something was watching her out of the fog. Her little ball of fire began to pulse faster as her heart rate increased, and Thyri whipped around. The fine hairs on the back of her neck bristled, but she couldn’t see anything. There were no shapes amongst the mist, no shadows, not the sound of shuffling feet...but she was certain she was not alone. Frustrated suddenly by her own inaction Thyri took a bold step forwards, her flames cutting through the mist as she waded through it placing one foot in front of another with more purpose and conviction than she felt. The thing, whatever it was, followed her. Great dark shapes loomed in front of her, and one emerged from out of the fog so suddenly and with so little warning that Thyri was forced to a halt moments before she collided with it. She reached out her hand again, resting it against the blackness and found that it was solid, the texture familiar. It was a tree. Tilting her head back Thyri tried to look up its length to discover how high it went before the branches started. The strange fog did not permit it. It did not cleave to the earth, but stretched on endless up to where the sky should have been, preventing her from seeing anything much above her own head.
Her free hand remained on the bark of the trunk as she moved around it, reluctant to release the one familiar thing she had found in the mist. That was until she felt something cold brush lightly against her knuckles. Thyri inhaled sharply and snatched her hand away, staggering backwards into the fog in her alarm. The chill lingered in her knuckles, making them tingle unpleasantly as she tried to regain her composure. She would not run; Thyri had given up running long ago.
“Show yourself!” she shouted into the nothingness, her voice echoing in her ears, “in the name of Rhaegar Banamađr, I demand you show yourself to me.” She shuddered again as ghostly fingers raked their way through her hair, caressing the red curls which tumbled down her back. “Show yourself!” shouted Thyri, stubbornly holding her ground, defying the screams of her heart telling her to run.
At first, it seemed that the thing, whatever it was, had ignored her. Then she saw it, a face pushing its way out of the fog...or through it. It was a horrible thing, forged from the mists themselves, its mouth opened wide. Clouds lingered between its ghostly lips like melted wax, and holes lingered where eyes should have been. Instinctively, Thyri took a step away from the creature as it moved towards her, reaching out with long skeletal fingers. It was getting nearer, and she was rooted to the spot, unable to run. It was too close.
The fire in her hand erupted in a torrent of golden sparks, the flames suddenly expanded and stretched up into the sky. The heat of it surged through her body, driven by her pounding heart until her arms itched with the intensity of the temperature. It burned through the monstrous face, dissolving it on contact with a high-pitched screech which reverberated off the trees. Thyri retreated in surprise, her instincts taking over and trying to put as much distance between her, her fire, and the creature in the fog. Her left foot failed to make contact with solid ground. It was too late to react, too late to do anything about it. She lurched backwards, falling over the edge of the bank until she landed hard on her back. Her fire went out and a cry escaped from between her lips. The ground was soft and slippery and it propelled her down the steep slope head-first, her clothes catching on trees and rocks as she passed them. Her skin ripped and her cloak was torn free from her shoulders. Down, down, down she fell, gaining momentum, until all the world was lost in a flurry of dizzying blurs.
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