Valarian was dead. He was certain he was dead. Waking up didn't make any sense at all. Air filled his lungs, so fast that it hurt, and a devouring sense of hunger consumed his entire body. His mind was wrong. Punar. He didn't sense her. Punar. Nothing. He opened his eyes but saw nothing. The last thing he remembered was dying.

He wanted to get out of the bed, to figure this out. What was going on? Punar... She wasn't there. A cold shiver shocked through his entire body. She was not there. There was nothing. He could hardly imagine what it had felt like not to be bonded. His body upset, his stomach turned and Valarian felt as if he was throwing up but his body was empty. How can it... How can I be? How can she not be... Completely disoriented Valarian tried to see where he was. A room, an infirmary. The images shot through his head. He got stabbed in the back. He remembered a sword sticking out of his chest. Punar. She had screamed when she got taken as well in the end. A myrdraal' sword had ended it. Had cut open her guts and pierced her chest. Blood had streamed out of her mouth. She had looked at him for the last time. A hand had kept him from falling on his face, had held him by his hair, wanted him to see Punar die. Their last look at eachother. The understanding that this really was the end. They had died together. Their undying love for eachother as strong as allways through their bond. It was all over and he had slipped away.

I live. I survived when she did not? His mind cramped up. This cannot be real. His empty stomach revolted again and he tried to throw up but couldn’t. The mind blasting pain overthrew his entire existence, made him fall to his knees in the undeniable reality that she was dead. "PUNAR!" His voice broke and as he cried her name it hurt even more. Meaningless sounds erupted from his throat as he let himself sink to the floor. How can I be? Why do I exist? His hands lowered and he ripped away the shirt he wore to see the wounds. Scars.... healed. "NOOO!" His body shocked as if he tried to get out of it. He hit his head and he felt warm blood stream down. He touched it and looked at the thick red fluid on his head. I am alive. He didn't want to know. He didn't want to know he survived. He needed to be dead. He needed to have sacrificed his life. For Punar. Punar.

He saw legs. Still on the floor desperately trying not to believe that this was not a nightmare he looked up at the Asha'man in front of him. He could have been there the whole time, but Valarian simply hadn’t seen him. The man, Valarian recognized him but couldn’t think of his name, reached out for him and picked him up by the shoulders. He wanted to throw the man off but he felt he was being shielded, and his muscles felt like pudding. “Let me… go…” he brought out, grasping the man’s arm and trying to push him away, but he didn’t have the energy. He didn’t even have the energy to stand on his feet. How could he have the energy to live then?

“You need rest, stay in bed.” The man said, lifting him to lay him back in the bed. “No” Valarian shook his head. “Nooo” he softly kept repeating, not even aware that he was saying words anymore. He looked at the asha'man who held him pinned down on the bed with weaves of air. He resisted, grunting, he was mad at this man, who kept looking at him as if he was a caged animal. “You’re acting like a fool.” The man said dryly. Valarian saw a sadness in his eyes, he recognized it as pity, in spite of his hard words. The asha’man sighed “You may wish yourself dead, but I will not allow it…. Not after all the time I spent healing you.” Valarian still looked at him, furious because this man had kept him alive while maybe he could have saved Punar. And even more because he had kept him from dying. Him, Valarian al Dera, who now had nothing left to live for anymore. “But Punar…” he whispered, with the last bit of reason he had left in him. “You should have saved her….” “There was nothing I could do for her.” The healer just said coldly. The pain that pierced his heart caused him to fade away into unconsciousness.

Valarian had always been a rational man. Calm, and calculated. He tried to look at every situation with cold reason. Many of his friends had died at times, and he had still been able to make decisions, how hard they may have been. But now, with the conscious knowledge that Punar had died he could not think clearly anymore. He did not want to think clearly. Death was all he wished for. Rialt. That was his name. Valarian remembered. Rialt kept it away from him. Valarian hated him because of it. Hated him because he tried to talk about things to distract him from what he really wanted. He wondered how long he would stand by his bed, watching over him. “You can’t keep me shielded forever blondie. One of these days…”he shouted at his healer sometimes. But the first days were a blur of waking up and sleeping and half-sleeping always feeling the undying pain of loss and emptiness. His body got healed a lot easier than his mind and his spirit.

His attempted suicides made Rialt go angry as well. In any moment Valarian was conscious he tried to kill himself when Rialt wasn’t paying attention. Like the one morning when Rialt had been exhausted from shielding his patient all night long, and Valarian had cut his own throat with a sharp weave of air. He remembered Rialt grasping his neck to heal him, shouting all possible insults he could think of. It had become a duel. A fight between the two of them.

It had happened with no warning, nor foresight, not a single solitary sign could have been discerned that would have given it away. It had happened in a flurry and in one night, before anyone could prepare a defense or act accordingly. Maradon had been going through every normal night that every other city in the world experienced without fail, but this night was different. The guards throats had been slit, and the entrance was easily done, no opposition had been there to raise the alarm or give warning to those on the outskirts. Before anyone had been able to do anything, buildings were on fire, and screams had filled the night air. Alone in a single room, two lover awoke to an invasion. Maradon was being sacked, things were burning, people were dying, and chaos ensued.

The next morning, not even that for it was still dark outside, Rialt was pulling duty in the Infirmarry so that the Accepted and Aes Sedai who were on duty could get some actual sleep that night. He had been having a terrible time of late getting any sleep at all, so he put his problem to good use, or at least that’s what he liked to think. There were no seriously injured people at the moment, just a few cases from outside the city. The infirmary was open to anyone, Tower member or not, citizens of the world included, and many took advantage of this. He was pouring over a text about inverted weaves that Sidivin had leant him when the unmistakable sound of boots on gravel came rushing towards him. They pounded into the room and in burst a very startled looking Dedicated. He shot daggars at the man for waking up a few of the people in the room but he didn’t get a word in edgewise before the boy blurted out what he needed to say, “Maradon sir, its under attack!”

He stood and beckoned for the boy to sit, catch his breath and explain. He was summoned to the M’Hael’s office where he was told he was going to assist in the defense and do what he could for the people there. He left there and then, with no further ado and made his way by Traveling to the city along to blight. He was not the one to channel the gateway of course, he being only able to open a small gateway to a familiar place, but upon arriving the gravity of the situation was made immediately clear to him. The entire city was in a glow of orange, yellow, and red. He stared at the carnage and devastation and immediately made his way into the city, sword drawn and his eyes peeled for any signs of those who needed help. But by then, most of the city was already lost to the flames. Most of everything was still, never to move again. This had been a carefully coordinated attack by the Shadow, and it was clear who the victors were. He went on for hours, searching and finding only a few survivors. It was then that he came across a peculiar scene.

Before him, Trollocs, Myrdrall even, lay in heaps, massive gashes and missing limbs. The ground seemed to swim in red and black. He followed the corpses cautiously, his sword drawn and ready for anything that might be lurking nearby. He hadn’t gone by himself, he was flanked by two Asha’man of the Doon M’Taal. He spotted them there, across on the pavement before a flight of stone stairs that led a level up in the city. A woman, dressed in garb much too fine for a merchant, lay facedown in a pool of blood. Rialt rushed forward and turned her over, her throat was completely slit, and he almost retched when he saw the great serpent ring on her finger, and who it was. Punar.. he knew her name vaguely. He swiveled his head around and saw what he was in search of, the form of a man lay crumpled on the ground and Rialt’s breathe caught in his throat when he realized with a sickening pang, that he must be dead as well. He moved over to the form, a look of pure disgust on his face when he realized the man had been completely skewered from his back to his front with the blade of one of the Myrdaal. Rialt leant down and turned the head, and immediately recognized the face of one of his former classmates. They knew eachother vaguely, Rialt knew the woman there was his bondmate. They had died together then…

He had been about to walk away, but there was something that called him to check anyway, and he performed a delving. His eyes widened in shock and surprise when he realized the man was not yet dead, he clung to life by that of a hair. He called out to the Doon M’Taal and they took up a perimeter around the square, Rialt could not move Valarian, yes that was his name, and have him survive. He rolled the man onto his side, and then pulled the sword free of the mans gut. Blood poured from the massive wound and Rialt performed his task quickly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the sa’angreal granted to him for use in this occasion by the Rei a’Dieb Cha. He used all five elements for this, nothing less was going to do any good at all. He hastily sewed the flesh back together, not at all with his normal grace, he didn’t have time to worry about scars and the like. For an hour Rialt sat like that, sweat dripping down his forehead, as he lay crouched over the still form of the fallen Asha’man. He could do no more for the time being, and finally, they made their way back to the encampment outside the city.

As soon as Rialt felt he could properly use the Source again, he got to work again, knitting together fragments of the one power and bits and pieces of the man’s former self. It was almost as if Rialt labored to repair the man’s soul, and not just his body. Finally, when he thought he couldn’t go on anymore, he got the steady heartbeat he had been working for. Every bit and ounce of his being had been pulled into making this man live, and Rialt swore he would not let the man die. For two weeks he sat with the unconscious man, healing him when he needed to and constantly watching for signs of life, when one day, Valarians eyes snapped open and he fell out of bed in a swift motion. The blood curdling scream turned Rialt’s form to water. Never in all his life had he heard such a horrible yell, a scream of all the pain in the world resounding in one voice. He rushed forward to the Asha’man and gripped his shoulders as he screamed out, “Punar, punar, Oh LIGHT PUNAR!!!”

He forced him down, and channeled weaves of air to bind him to the bed, writhing and yelling, tears streaming down his face in a rapid succession, like a river. “You should have saved her….” He said desperately, hate in his voice, anger, sadness…everything. He passed out then, from the strain probably, and Rialt stayed by his side for hours, and finally, let go of the weaves that bound him. Numerous times the man awoke, and each time, he tried in vain to end his life. Rialt would not allow it, he swore to himself, to the man, to that dead Aes Sedai that he wouldn’t allow it. And he didn’t. Not when his life was threatened, not when exhaustion seemed to want to take over his very soul. What that man was going through, he had no idea, he could only see what the pain, the stress was doing to him emotionally. He had learned even then, that the man could not be trusted in his sleep. He had the gift for Dreamwalking, so Rialt had gained a hold of a ter’angreal, and followed him even in sleep. After an entire night of shielding him and completely and utter exhaustion, he gave up on trying block him and had slipped off. He was awaken by the yells of his assistant, who held Valarians neck in his hands, blood oozing through his fingers.

Rialt let out a yell of anger and frustration and gripped Valarian, putting the five elements of healing together to protect his air pipe and then to mend the gash he had inflicted on himself. “Stupid Fool! I will not have you killing yourself after I have exhausted hours and effort to keep you alive!!” He yelled as the man before him was strangling on his own blood, but he would not allow Valarian to die, and patched him back together again, this time shielding him, and holding him down. Rialt sat down on the side of the bed, and put his head back, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “You will not be rid of me Valarian…not unless the Creator himself were to come down and stop me.”

Valarian looked at the ceiling above his bed. It was pointless to lay down in bed like this. His body was fine. But his mind seemed permanently damaged. He thought about what he had done. He tried to be rational and look at himself from the outside. He thought about his attempted suicides from the last days -or had it been weeks? - and sighed. He had no idea how long he had really been here. He wondered what Rialt thought about it all, and how long he would stay be by his side and keep him from dying. If I was a healer maybe I would be mad as well. He thought about Rialt's last outburst. He tried to see through his hate for the man, and figure why he had healed him. He must have known Valarian had nothing to live for. How could he not understand that all he craved for was death? He heared Rialt shift in his chair at the feet end of his bed. He couldn't see him but he knew it was Rialt. Doesn't he ever get tired of shielding me? Why does he do this to himself?

Valarian looked beside him to his left, where Punar would have been when he woke up. She had allways been there. There had been nights he had slept alone but he could not remember a single one of them. He pictured her there. Her face when she was asleep. The thought made him smile and at the same time he hurt so bad that he gasped for air. Rialt made a noise but he didn't hear it. Tears rolled down on his pillow. He knew she would never be there anymore, but at the same time he could see her so clearly in front of him. He could allmost touch her soft skin. He reached out his hand to his illusion but was blinded by the tears. He lowerd his hand again and rolled to his back, his body shocked while he cried soundlessly. He wanted to undo his existense to never have been there to see Punar die. But he knew as long as Rialt was there he would not be allowed the sweet embrace of death.

It then occured to him that there was a place he could go. He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come. Although his body was cured his mind was weak and exhausted, and he found it easy to enter a slumber and awoke in Tel'aran'rhiod. He stood in the infirmiry. Empty. He sighed in relief. Here he was free from Rialt. Free to find the danger he was looking for, so he could reunite with his lover in death. He walked outside and looked up at the empty sky. It had allways fascinated him, the nothingness he saw in the grey roof of Tel'aran'rhiod, and he longed to be there, in that nothingness more than ever. He lifted himself from the ground and flew up like a feather. He let himself drift away by imaginary wind, over the tower grounds.

When he saw the orchyard he stopped. The memories of Punar overwhelmed him and he decided to take a last walk in the place where they had first met. Only half aware of what he did he created the image of Punar there. His breath startled. He had never done this before. Punar came toward him, and even though he knew it was an illusion he took her in his arms. In every way she looked and felt like his bondmate. He touched her face, her hair as she looked at him seemingly wondering what caused him to look so sad. He kissed her neck and hugged her tightly, wishing he could hold on to this illusion forever. "Valarian... what 's wrong?" she said on a worried tone. Her voice made him crack and he bursted out in tears. "It's all right" he said with a broken voice, while his body shocked and tears rolled over his cheeks. Even though Punar had seen him shed a few tears twice before, once when one of his best friends had died in battle in the blight and once when his mentor died a few years before, she had never in her life heared him sob like this and she did not seem to understand.

He kissed her. She kissed him back and it felt like a goodbye. "Punar." He said to her "Like I allways told you, I will follow you wherever you go..." He turned around and saw a fade come his way. The eyeless monster looked so real yet Valarian had never been so glad to see one. He turned again to take one last look at Punar, but she stood there in the arms of a myrdraal. Her dress was soaked with blood and her empty eyes looked at him. "You let me die! she said softly, right before the fade slit her throat and blood streamed over her entire body. Valarian screamed when he wanted to catch her body as the fade threw it forward but she suddenly was out of reach and she fell face down in a pool of blood. He ran toward the monster that still had her blood on his sword. He would die by that sword. Now.

Valarian's eyes shot open and instead of the fade he saw Rialt's face. The flaming bastard that kept pulling him away from his death shouted something at him and knocked him out. No more dreams. No sweet embrace of death.

Valarian woke up from a pulsing pain around his rigt eye. He muttered a string of curses when he remembered what had happened. Rialt had woke him up from the dreamworld and knocked him unconscious. Every day his hate for Rialt grew and inwardly he cursed his helplessness. He wasn't the kind of man to let his rival win this easily. Up until this moment Rialt had allways been able to stop him, because he had acted irrationally. But not anymore. Valarian could think clearly now. In spite of the horrors in his mind he could rationally think about his next move. This time it would have to work. Away. He could literally get away, out or Rialt's reach if he just found the right moment when he wasn't paying attention.

Valarian waited patiently. He still refused to really talk to Rialt but he stopped his attempted suicides but he kept grasping Saidin when Rialt stopped shielding him, untill Rialt's exhaustion was visible on his face. As he had said a while ago, he couldn't keep shielding him forever. He had to rest sometimes. And then in an instant when Rialt let his guard down Valarian grasped saidin and began weaving a gateway. It was allmost finished when Rialt' s shielding snapped him off. "NO!" He couldn't believe Rialt could still keep him away from saidin. He felt the shield and fought it. "You asshole!" He yelled. "You flaming goatlicking bastard!"

((ooc- 3 months later...anyway, this was rather hard to RP out... so i did as best as my imagination would lend me at 11:42 at night...i hope this is acceptable for you Valarian...))

Weeks, months, time just didn’t seem to factor into the constant watch that Rialt kept over Valarian. Never in his life had he been so exhausted, so utterly spent. But he could not simply give in, and rest, this fight was ceaseless, it was maddening and slow. Rilat had no idea, what he was going to do if this kept up. Valarian’s attempts to end his life were routine by now, his insults were routine, and there seemed to be no end in sight. He began to content himself with the knowledge that perhaps he never was going to be able to rid himself of the wreck of a man before him. The state in which the Aman Val held himself, made Rialt sick as well as sorrowful. Never had he seen so much guilt, so much pain in a man’s eyes as what he looked into every single day and night he sat by Valarian’s bed. He was a ghost, his face a pale white and his breathe short and shallow. It was as if he lived only by the grace of the Creator himself, like he was being held in the world for some other purpose, for only that could be the reason Valarian still had life, still had breathe in his lungs.

Over time, their relationship grew into one of silent regard. Rialt would often pass the time by speaking to Valarian about the going on’s of the Tower that he knew of, or would tell jokes he knew. Anything to try to lighten the mood, anything to get Valarian to snap out of the reverie he was trapped in. Nothing worked. Taking turns, Rialt would lay on the bed next to Valarian’s while one of the Mordero watched over the Val while he slept. Then, the moment he would wake, he sat next to the bed for the entire day, never leaving it, and never giving the grief-stricken man a break from his presence. It was on one such day, a day when Rialt was silent, that his head drooped and he fell into a light sleep. When he awoke, he saw a smile…but twisted, a mangle of sadness and relief. It was then that he realized that Valarian was a Dreamwalker. Moving quickly, he shook the man awake, and the second he opened his eyes, he drove his fist into the man’s eye, letting darkness consume him.

He sat then, at the foot of the bed, his head lay back against the soft wood, and contemplated letting the man die. He wished it; he wanted it more than anything else. He did not even concern himself with food, with thirst; nothing seemed to matter to him. In his eyes, there was a void, an emptiness that made Rialt wonder if Valarian had not died suddenly. But always he was awake. Awake and silent. Rising from his spot on the floor, he moved back to his familiar place next to Valarian’s bed. His exhaustion was apparent to every person who came in and out of the Infirmary; even now they were bringing people back and forth from Maradon. Rialt had not seen Tower Grounds since he had left so long ago, and his mind began to wander. The world was a blur, a magnitude of nothingness and swirling colors. He could barely hold himself upright, when the Source slipped from his grasp, and he felt the awareness granted him, leave suddenly. Valarian embraced the Source, he could feel it. And he quickly seized Saidin, trying to slam the shield he had maintained for so long, back into place. He was weaving a gateway, he was going to get away, and no one was around to stop him.

But he couldn’t slide the shield in place, not with the exhaustion on him so fully, and not while Valarian fought him like a wild animal. He jumped through the gateway and it spun menacingly open, and then, shut, letting a flash of light emanate its end. Rilat let out the most vulgar of curses he could muster. “Jalyrien, Get over here now!” He bellowed at a man across the tent. He jogged over, to Rialt. “Weave that gateway, to wherever it is that this man just went, and do it NOW!” Without a word, Jalyrien complied, and soon a gateway stood open. Stepping through, Rilat instructed the Asha’man to follow him. In stepping through, his heart sank in his chest, and his eyes filled with dread. The Blight. The one place on Earth Rilat had no desire to ever visit again…and exactly the place of death Valarian had chosen for himself. The gateway snapped shut behind them, and Rialt spotted Valarian’s form a little way away from himself.

“Valarian, you fool, fool light forsaken barbarian of a man! LOOK around you, where you are!!!!” He screamed at the swaying Asha’man as he approached. He had chosen quite a place to die, quite an end indeed. If anything was to kill a man of the Black Tower, this would be it. Valarian held Saidin in his grip, much more firmly than Rialt did in fact, and faced him with no emotion showing on his face. “You should not have followed me.”

“I told you Asha’man, that I would not let you die whilst I still held breathe inside my lungs, and I will not let today be that day.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the first movement in the “woods” surrounding them. Shadowspawn. He had to leave this place, and quickly, before the Wurms came. He formed a barrier of air, but he was too weak to sustain it properly, and he did not have his sword with him. He had not worn it ever since he had taken a permanent residence next to the Infirmary bed. The realization of his actions hit, sinking into his consciousness. He could not leave this place without Valarian, he could not do it. He had promised himself, that he would not allow this man to die, he would not. Ripped from his thoughts though, Rialt’s attention whirred around to the strangled scream of Jalyrien. There, behind the Mordero was quite possibly the largest Wurm and Shadowspawn he had ever seen in his life. He embraced the Source, and gathered together weaves of fire, scarring the beast away from his assistant, and it collapsed in a writhing heap. He felt sick to his stomach. He rushed to the man’s side, but it was too late, he held the glaze of death upon his gaze forever.

Valarian stood there, unfazed it seemed, and Rialt screamed in his direction, “You’re search for death has ended in one Place! An end to those who do not seek it!!! I cannot heal death Aman Val!!” You are going to die here Rialt, you know that now… He was going to die just as Jalyrien met his end, there was no way he could escape his fate. The Asha’man had lost his wits end, and Rialt was too weak to do anything against what lived in the light forsaken land. He would die here, and they both knew this.

Valarian remembered last time he had entered the sickening scenery of the blight. It had been several years ago and his former master, Asha'man Asgeran had been with him. He remembered vividly how even the air had been painful to breathe, as if it were burning his body from within. Right now he could almost see Asgeran stand next to him and look into his eyes. "The heat is only the smallest of our problems here, Valarian." he had said. And with a worried frown he had looked up at the horizon where several creatures appeared. "As long as you can feel physical pain at least you know you're still alive."he had mumbled, before rallying the men who were with them, preparing for battle.

It doesn't matter anymore. The past holds no meaning for me anymore. With a steady calmness he saw a gigantic wurm approach at an incredible speed. This is it. This is where it ends. I will be killed by this monster and reunited with the only one that ever mattered to me. It's over. Valarian looked at the abomination of life in front of him.He had faught shadowspawn like it before. It wasn't impossible to kill a few. Maybe he should fight a while longer till he couldn't hold out anymore. But the sweet embrace of death was luring him. With each time he had tried to take his own life the desire for it had grown. And now he felt exited about being reunited with Punar. Only a few seconds to wait before she would be within his reach again. He raised his arms a little, then spread them as if he was really going to embrace his gruesome ending.

A sound got him out of his trance. Rialt was breathing heavily. Exhausted and possibly at the verge of panic he inhaled the burning air shallowly. Rialt was going to die with him. The fool's efforts to keep Valarian alive had taken enough of his patience. Valarian didn't want to look at him. He didn't want to see the asha'man he was pulling with him into his grave. He shouldn't have been that stupid. This whole thing wouldn't have been necessary if Rialt had just let him go. If he hadn't made Jalyrien follow him to the blight they could have their happy lives and cure people who actually wanted to be healed. But now a man died, and soon Rialt and himself would follow. I'm not responsible for their actions. This is MY choice.

Valarian abruptly shook his head. I can't be held responsible for their deaths. It was THEIR choice. ....What am I doing? They didn't chose to die. They want to save me but they don't know.... They don't understand... In Rialts head I'am a fool who is throwing himself at an abomination of life created by the Dark One. Valarian stopped breathing. I am willing to do this, in order to be dead. Am I going insane?

The creature in front of him now attacked at full speed. Even in nightmares one could never imagine a horrible beast like this. Almost instinctively Valarian weaved a wall of flames in front of himself. He made the flames spread out and just before it could reach the two Asha'man the monster stopped moving and crumbled with a deafening scream. So close the flames were licking Valarian's face. He knew it should hurt but he didn't feel anything. Behind the dead wurm others were approaching. Valarian looked at the black heap that was still burning. Somehow he envied the creature for it had found death. He finally found the courage to turn around again and look at Rialt. Rialt just stood there silently. He was not going to plead for his life, which was admirable, to say the least.

For a second Valarian felt like he was looking at a mirror. In Rialt's figure he saw himself. We are Asha'man. I still am... He looked at the body of Jalyrien in the sand, stared at the gruesome way the man had been slaughted... and felt his eyes sting. His skin was burning and the pain suddenly shot through his entire body. He inhaled the hot air as if it was the first time he drew breath. It is my fault. I may not have killed him but it was me who made them come here, in order to save my life, and just a few second ago I was ready to sacrifice another Asha'man to get what I want. I betrayed the black tower. He couldn't stand looking Rialt in the eyes and turned to look at the approaching creatures. He still wasn't at the end of his strength. Valarian groaned loudly, streched out his hands and made another sea of flame catch the approaching shadowspawn. While he torched them he felt he actually had less strength left than he had assumed. Every part of his body hurt and by the time he defeated the wurms in his sight he was gasping. He leaned forward with his hands on his knees. This is the moment where I decide what to do. I either stay here and die, or live up to my duty as Asha'man. My choice. My responsibility....

He saw something in the sand. Drops of water. Sweat? Only when his vision became unclear he realised it was coming from his eyes. Tears. I am crying. He stood upright and looked at his surroundings. I am crying because I just realised I cannot die today. He started weaving a gateway. The truth is Punar would despise me if I took my own lifelike this. She would demand I pick up my duties and someday die in a battle against the Dark One. Only then could she be proud of her bondmate. I am a fool. One that makes fatal mistakes. The portal lead back to the infirmiry where they had left. "Go" he said to Rialt with a broken voice. "I'm right behind you." Rialt didn't take much time to think before he stepped through the gateway, that lead back to the infirmiry. Valarian picked up Jalyrien's dead body. When he felt the heave weight on his shoulder he knew that feeling would never go away. "Jalyrien...." he spoke softly. "I will never forgive myself for this.... Light...." He fried more of the approaching creatures with waves of fire. "What am I?" The question kept hurting his mind while he stepped through the portal.