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Breathe.

This is what our companion has instructed us to do.

Yet how can we do this when she takes our breath away?

She is dearer to us than the air in our lungs.

Yet we must breathe.

Prayers spill from our lips to the Perfection, as we beg on our knees for her companionship.

Tears fall from our eyes as we press our face upon the ground, our soul wanting nothing more than to bask in her radiant smile.

Yet we must breathe.

Our lips sing praises to her from afar as she celebrates the anniversary of her birth.

How we wish to kiss her mother's hand, to thank her for bringing an angel to this world.

How we wish to kiss the feet of the Perfection, to thank it for delivering her into our path.

We kiss the sky, hoping that the wind will deliver our love to her.

Hoping if, for but a moment, she can feel the love we hold for her.

We read the words of tenderness and affection that she has written for us with her own hand.

We treasure every word as though it were scripture.

But then the Cataclysm came.

And the pinnacle of our love was brought to tears.

And we could not breathe.

And we grieved.

We wanted to forget. We begged to have our memory erased and the pain removed.

But the Perfection denied us.

We wanted to crawl deep beneath the earth and rot.

But the Perfection commanded us to breathe.

So we breathed.

And we looked deep within the soul for solace.

There we found our love for her, and it kept us warm through the Cataclysm.

There we found certainty, which we will use to fight for our beloved one.

But above all we found unity.

The Fallen One did not truly unite us, rather she merely held the fragments together.

It was not until we met her, the one with eyes of sapphire, that we truly felt unified.

We have struggled to name her, to give words to the one who holds our heart in her delicate hands.

A seemingly impossible task, we have gone through countless names, some long and elaborate, others short and easily spoken.

There was only one name that rang clear.

The Sapphire-Eyed Serenity.

There is no finer name for her, for she can quell the howls of the Solitude itself.

Her voice resonates in our very soul, echoing endlessly into a beautiful melody.

Her laughter moves us to tears, for it is more beautiful than the songs of angels.

Her presence gives us life, like the miracles of the prophets of old.

The Sapphire-Eyed Serenity has done so much for our worn spirit, and asks for so little in return.

Kiss me,* she says.

Sing to me, she says.

Dance with me, she says.

Hold me, she says.

We shall kiss her until we haven't the strength to move our lips.

We shall dance with her until the morning sun rises from the horizon.

We shall hold her until she is free of all that seek to harm her.

We shall sing to her, until every affectionate word and loving rhyme has been sung.

How we crave her touch, we feel our heart weep in her absence.

We desire to rest beside her each night, whispering our love for her as she drifts into slumber.

We would forsake all we have, in order to belong solely to her.

The Sapphire-Eyed Serenity has stolen our heart.

And we don't wish for it back.

Rather, we wish for her to keep it.

*Forever and longer.
We have erred from the path.

We have succumbed to the illusions of our foolish desires.

We have extended our hand to brush against her beauty, even if for a moment.

We have broken our vow.

For this we have suffered. We have been stung by the barbs of her disloyalty.

For this we have spit venom upon ourselves, burning against the skin as if it drips from our teeth.

For this the Solitude mocks us, boasting in its victory with fervor.

Alone we kneel in darkness.

Perfection guide us.

Alone we wage war against the terrors of the night.

Perfection save us.

With every nightfall, we stare deep into the harsh gaze of the Solitude.

Soon our beloved mentor will depart, and our enemy will be mightier than titans.

Yet the Perfection is mightier, and has called a traveler to cross our twisted path.

We gazed in awe as her very steps smoothed the jagged edges without difficulty.

How we wished to learn her secret.

The venom turned to silver as we pleaded for the Traveler's attention. Yet with every glance she cast upon us, we hadn't the strength to look on.

How we wished we could meet her gaze.

Her company was short-lived, yet we cannot help but admire the footsteps she left behind.

How we wished for her to stay.

We shall press forward on this grueling path, holding firm that the Traveler will return to polish the road once more.
We have tasted the warmth of passion for the first time since the departure of the Fallen One. Its tender sweetness has almost been lost on our tongue.

The Traveler has impacted us more than we thought possible, such intensity should not be present from such a brief encounter.

With each drop of ink upon our pages, the desire in our heart becomes increasingly difficult to quell.

Why does she affect us so?

We have walked on this path of isolation with caution, guarding our heart with fire and brimstone, vowing that none shall claim it for the eternity to come.

Yet it all crumbled...with just a glance.

It is both beautiful and terrifying.

We fumble with our words in her presence, unable to form praises to give justice to the Traveler.

Alone we stood with the Traveler, feeling our hands tremble at the desire to brush against her own.

So many words unspoken, so many feelings unexpressed.

How fleeting our time was together, yet how lasting her impression.

We are struck with sorrow over the emotions we feel. Verily they are symbols of weakness within most.

The mind is plagued by whispers of dissent, clawing and tearing at the walls that shout them out like the ravage beasts that they are.

We desire nothing more than to contain the fire burning within us until she graces us with our presence once more. It is a flame that is unnatural, fueled by our shortcomings, that burns our very being.

Passion be ******.

Yet as we reminisce over what memories we share, there is a joy like no other.

There is admiration of her.

There is laughter...laughter where there was once cold silence.

*Passion be Praised.

— The End —