(Present Day)
Rudra slept for two days.
In his dream he was back in Alaka, bleeding, dying on the snow. His dragonic core growling so cold it couldn't even melt the snow around him. The snow was different in Alaka- too thin, too pale. He shifted an inch, seeking whatever little comfort he could get in his deathbed. Tthe snow didn't creak under him like real snow should. It just gave away- silent- like it was quietly waiting to swallow him whole.
The night sky was impossibly bright- countless stars studding the dark universe above him- lighting up the valley with eery ghost light.
Several hundred yards away the castle or Alaka was burning. That was Rudra's den and Tish's prison.
And the Sword of Mamon had not been a sword really. It was something else. It was golden, sure, but it didn't look like the metal gold. It was something else.
It had a natural curve - a ridge running down the center like a keel of a real talon. The growth lines still visible near the base like rings in old horns or nails. Even during the fight Rudra had noticed how it had glinted with an unnatural matte dull sheen - so very unlike polished ores.
When Percival had rushed towards him head-on, Rudra had noticed unnaturally sharp edge- made of a thin true-silver or some white metal inlaid or fused along the cutting edge. The only part of the blade which looked made and not grown. Rudra had been distracted by the strange seemingly harmless but odd looking weapon in Percival's hand.
And that had been his mistake. A negligence born out of careless arrogance.
And now he was on the snow, unable to even shift back to dragon, unable to hold his human form. His body tried to push out the sword like it usually did with other weapons - but it couldn't.
It was losing. Oddly enough it was losing.
It had struck her then that this was Sword of Mamon.
He now lied in the snow, cold, naked, his dignity long lost and his life is down the same path.
Then he heard the frantic footsteps. He tried to get up, to fight, to atleast let out a roar to scare off whoever was approaching him. But he was simply paralysed. His fingers twitched but his hands never moved. Even moving his tongue made him exhausted- the cold shutting down his body faster than the pain could.
It was the Saintess. The same one he had mocked, tortured, kidnapped. Tish skidded to a hasty stop before him, her chest heaving. It wasn't until she had dropped to her knees that he noticed the tears.
How strange.
Her hands were glowing. Healing. Who? Him? Why?
It didn't work ofcourse. The Sword of Mamon was something permanent. Irreversible. Tish busily brushed Rudra's hair off his forehead, "Look at me," her voice was hoarse, "Eyes on me. Don't fall asleep. If you fall asleep, you'll die."
She wiped her nose and eyes - a nasty clumsy habit- Rudra had made fun of hundred times but she had never learned.
"I will try to pull the sword out slowly while healing the wound," she stated her foolish plan, her blue eyes brighter than the sky above.
This foolish child..
Go!
Leave!
Rudra wanted to say. But no words came out of his mouth. Just a hacking cough followed by a splat of mixture of blood and saliva.
"I know it hurts!" She read him wrong, as always, "But we need to do this or you will really die."
Something sharp and fast cut through the wind and landed an inch away from Rudra's head. Tish froze. Rudra lifted his head a little and spotted an arrow. Or something that looked like an arrow. Made of the same thing the sword was made of.
He closed his eyes. He was already dying. Slowly, painfully with a naive Saintess whose nose was full of snots and head was full of bad bad ideas. One of these arrows could possibly kill him immediately.
He wasn't afraid of death. He was afraid of the pain.
And then when Rudra thought Tish could not be anymore stupid, she surprised him by being more stupid !
Tish threw herself over Rudra's broken form, "Why now!" she was sobbing, frustrated and afraid. Her small form barely covered Rudra's face, chest and shoulders leaving the rest of his body completely open.
What an useless human shield.
Rudra tasted salt in his mouth. Her tears (He hoped it was her tears and not something coming out of her nose) dropping on his bottom lips as her hair covered his eyes from rest of the Alaka.
Nobody had tried to shield him ever. Not his father. Not Nayan. Nobody.
She was warm. Her breathing smelled like those chest nuts she had so aggressively refused just this morning. So she had eaten them when Rudra wasn't looking. The ridiculous thought made him smile.
And then another arrow hit her. Rudra felt her whole body jerking, her breath catching. And then she fell on Rudra.
No no no no....
Her head came to rest against the curve of his neck, her blonde hair fanned around his shoulder and on his hand. The arrow had pierced her back. Rudra could see it's tip glinting at the middle of her chest from where blood started blooming on her white dress getting bigger and bigger. Her own healing magic glowed with an urgency but the bleeding didn't stop. The Saintess's blood made all the way on the snow fixing with Rudra's.
Tish.
He couldn't even call her. Couldn't nudge her as she laid just a breath away from him.
Why?
He wanted to ask. Why did you take the arrow for me?
But she was already gone.
_____________________________________
"Tish, answer me."
Rudra found his voice suddenly, "Please."
But the silent remained absolute. She was gone. Really really gone. And he was alone in the dark, not dead, not alive- just somewhere between.
"Tish, please....."
"Nope."
It was so carefree, so infuriating, Rudra wanted to kill Tish a second time. "How could you do this to me?"
"Do what?" She was asking like she hadn't tried to protect him with her whole body just minutes ago.
"Why did you do that?" Rudra asked again, voice croaking, "Why did you sacrifice yourself."
A splash of water hit his face and Rudra gasped, eyes flying open.
They weren't in Alaka.
They were in Benevia. He was lying in the same room they had provided him after he had come here the first time.
Tish stood with an expressionless face with a glass of water (now empty). "Wake up," she said flatly.
Nayan was there ofcourse. She had changed into a tunic, quilt coat and trousers- dressed fully like Benevian, she was shouting, "Oh my gods, how on earth are you a Saintess! He was sleeping, Teresa!"
Tish looked away from Rudra and shook her head, her face dead serious, "I cannot have him even dreaming about me sacrificing for him."
"It's not a dream!" Rudra snapped so loud the glasses in the room vibrated. Nayan winced.
Percival, who was standing by the door, immediately reached for his sword hilt.
Only Tish didn't move. Unaffected.
"It's not a dream," Rudra repeated, "You are really going to kill yourself by saving me."
His voice cracked. He still could vividly remember how Tish had gone rigid just a breath away from him, while he had lied helpless, unable to do anything about it.
"And why?" Tish asks, "On earth I would ever do that?"
"Because you are stupid enough to do that."