The wave shattered and crumbled into tiny glass-like pieces all over the floor.
And the cavern became a pool of frost.
At least for now.
It would settle gradually over a few days and return to its former state—before Ruxnoth had forced an eruption.
I choked and collapsed to my knees a few feet from Ketheron and Ambrose.
“Duly impressive, dragon princess,” Ketheron said, smiling out at me. “Rest now for a little while.”
I didn’t have much choice.
The last thing I was aware of was Ketheron pulling me under the river rock shield for protection, before I passed out.
18
~Winter~
Stillness.
Quiet.
Weightlessness.
Nothing hurt here.
Not physically, especially.
And the rest… it was distant, like it was being held back. And there was a promise that it always would be.
So long as I remained here.
In the Veil.
No, not just this periphery area that was basically a void of nothingness, neither really dark nor light.
To be at peace, I had to cross over into the Valley of the Dead straight ahead, where the souls—spirits or specters—of the dead were barely perceptible behind a thick wall of mist that wove through the magical tree constructs. The wall and the figures seemed to extend forever in either direction. I remembered it from when Mom and Dad had astral projected me in here with them when I was younger, in order to teach me about it.
But being here for real was a whole different thing.
For other freshly dead beings, the figures here would reach out to them, urging them forward, to join them. Because of what I was, they weren’t doing that.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t go to them, though.
And taste that peace.
Just for a little while.
It wouldn’t harm the Valley if it was just for a while.
Even though they didn’t try to pull me in, the plane itself did, picking up on where my head was at, I figured.
It pulled at me so fiercely.
And it promised peace.
No pain. No shame. No grief.
