Soren sits atop a sand dune with her back to the camera, looking out on the pink and purple nebulas of Ultima Thule.
โฆ And when Urianger and Y'shtola are gone too, Soren just goes to sit up on the sand dune for a while. Alphinaud and Graha are speaking of some ancient lore or another, and Alisaie has, smartly, taken to bashing her sword against local plants.
The tiniest few flecks of ashy pallor drift up from her arm as she sits, and a chokehold of terror seizes her before she starts moving to take off the outer, pure metallic pieces of her armor.
Two could play this game.
Staring up at the gorgeous twirl of stars above, she stands, smiles, and leaps - rolling to tumble down the hill, just as she did when she was a child.
Barefoot, she sprints to the next hill, and does it again.
Once more, and the laughter of the memory mixes with tears of all that had been lost, and the salt tastes good in a world bereft of feeling.
The ash stops, and only sand and a nostalgia for shuffling sand out of borrowed shepherd's slops with Thancred in Thanalan remains.
They were here. She was here. They were so close. And whether Y'shtola liked it or not, she would remember the Azem crystal, and knew that if anything else, they would be together, here at the end of all things.
That vision of them, shining in the stars, of Ryne and Tataru and Hien being able to look up at the sky once more knowing that nightmares would not find them in their waking hoursโฆ that could carry her beyond the bounds of reality.
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Mare Luctus et Collis Laetitia
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