Awakening

Eireannan woke up unusually late, when the sun was already up in the sky. Leaning over her body, he saw Laandra was still deep asleep, her breathing steady and calm. A sudden wave of dizziness engulfed him, as he remembered the unlikely events of the night, the guilt in her eyes, her shivering, as he held her throughout the hours that followed, until she eventually drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

He shouldn't have let her try it!

Tapping into another being's life force still managed to shake him quite badly, and he had spent years learning how to control those moments of sheer ecstasy, how to absorb the energy and channel it into his own magic.

He wondered how she had found the strength to stop. He wouldn’t have.

Oh, he was not going to tell her how close they had been on the very brink of death. His death. Nor how thrilling it had been, after all.He doubted very much the positive effects this sort of confession would have had on her already troubled conscience.

So, there was something dark and wicked in his soul after all, no need to pretend, Eireannan thought bitterness making his stomach clench. Rising from the bed, careful not to wake her up, he stared at his own reflection, into a remnant of window glass that still hung in a corner. Hell, he looked even worse than he felt, exhausted, pale, hands trembling as he brushed back his hair with his fingers.

He had to do something about it before Laandra woke up and understood how far she'd gone.

She had come to him in the purity of her heart and he had failed her.

Was he doomed to corrupt everything he laid his hands on?

No more such games, Eireannan promised to himself, as he scrambled in his own bags for a mana potion to regain some strength and get rid at least of the sickly haven't-slept-in-ages appearance.

Light help them, if something like that happened again, he’ll have to leave her. No matter that it would shatter his soul into tiny pieces. Or at least what was left of it. Hurting Laandra wasn't an option. Corrupting her to such dark ways even less so.

Because he truly loved her.

As simple as that.

Unable to find the potion he was looking for, he threw away the bag, cursing under his breath and remained seated on the dusty floor, hugging his knees. And for the first time in ten years, words came easily to his mind, like a torrent, and Eireannan Sarálondë the Deathcaller prayed and he cried as he did.